


Do You Want to Play With Magic?

by bellacatbee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bonding, Bottom Castiel, Canon-Typical Violence, Cat Castiel, Community: deancasbigbang, Familiar Castiel, Hurt Castiel, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Private Investigators, Witch Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 18:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5059912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellacatbee/pseuds/bellacatbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has never been sure if his magic is bad or good. </p><p>He tries to put it to good use, tries to help people, working as a private detective with his partner, Charlie, but he knows his magic requires a sacrifice - blood, bone, body - and that magic like that can never be wholly pure. </p><p>Then, out of the blue, a stranger shows up claiming to be Dean’s familiar. The stranger, Castiel, is a cat familiar, and he is determined that out of all the witches in the world, Dean is the one he wants to bond with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Want to Play With Magic?

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to say thank you first of all to my wonderful artist, Dean-Solo, who has created the beautiful art you'll see in this fic. I'm so delighted with it and it's been a pleasure to work with her.
> 
> Also a huge thank you to onceuponatmi who took on the task of beta-reading this fic! Thank you so much for trimming out the superfluous description I'm so fond of and created a tighter, better story as a result.
> 
> (Just a quick note to avoid any confusion: I write under the pen-name tigerboydean on tumblr and my artist has used that name on the title pic.)

 

Dean’s own footsteps sounded too loud to him as he pounded up the stairs. His head ached. The paper coffee cup in his hand, piping hot and from his favorite diner down the block, would go some way to making him feel mostly human again and he’d crumble up a couple of aspirin for breakfast.

He finally reached the seventh floor and headed down the hallway to his office.

It was just past nine in the morning. There were no clients scheduled for today and Sam would call him if he had a case that needed Dean’s particular skill set. Charlie wouldn’t be in until around noon, and even if she did get in earlier she’d hardly scolded Dean for being late.

He was the boss after all. He could pick and choose what times he opened.

 

Most of his work involved late night appointments. He spent a lot of time on the clock after dark, and if that meant he turned up a little later the next day, then that was just how things worked.

He reached the door to his office, smiling fondly at the old, slightly chipped black letters embossed there.

_Winchester and Bradbury - Private Investigators._

__

Charlie handled the technical side of things and Dean handled the physical side. Charlie hacked bank accounts and Dean broke into buildings. Charlie did her technopagan wizardry while Dean favored the old blood and bone magic of his father. They cracked cases, chased some girls, and had each other’s backs. They were great.

Dean noticed the cat as he pulled out his keys.

Sitting beside the office door as if waiting for him, it was elegant and sleek, all black, paws neatly tucked together and back straight. It stared up at Dean, its eyes bright unearthly blue, opened it’s mouth, and let out a deep loud “merow”.

“You lost buddy?” Dean asked.

This block was commercial. The cat didn’t belong to anyone here, unless Chuck the screenwriter had been kicked out by his girlfriend again and moved into his office. Dean didn’t think Chuck even had a cat, but it had been a couple of months since the last time Becky had kicked him out so he might have acquired the cat since then. Of course, it was more likely that the cat had wandered in off the streets or climbed in through an open window somewhere in the building and gotten stuck.

The cat cocked it’s head to one side and continued staring at him.

 

Dean’s nose twitched. He was starting to feel the tell-tale itch that accompanied any close encounter with a cat.

Dean frowned.

“Sorry, pal, but I’m allergic to you. You can stay out in the hallway and my partner will look after you when she gets in.”

“Merow,” the cat said again.

It stood up, revealing long spindly legs and a whip-like tail. It trotted across to Dean, purring thickly, and began to brush up against his legs, butting its head into his shins.

“Why do cats always like me?” Dean muttered. “I’m allergic to you, you fuzz brain. You’re gonna make me sneeze if you keep doing that. I don’t need your fur all over me.”

The cat didn’t stop. It’s purring intensified.

Dean sighed. The cat obviously didn’t understand what he was trying to say, or it was just contrary. His best bet was to leave the cat outside. Charlie would be more than happy to handle it when she came in. She’d probably fuss over it and give it some stupid name and take it home with her if she couldn’t find the owner.

The cat would be fine and Dean didn’t feel an ounce of guilt as he unlocked the door to his office and stepped over the cat and inside. He shut the door after himself, breathing deeply.

Then he sneezed.

“Stupid cat,” he muttered, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and striding towards his desk.

If Dean was going to be sneezing for the rest of the day, he better call or text Charlie to bring tacos from that food cart down the street for lunch. He deserved to have something nice to look forward to.

The door behind him banged open. Dean whirled around.

A man dressed all in black, sleek and elegant was standing in the doorway. His eyes were bright blue.

“Whoa, buddy, why didn’t you knock?” Dean asked.

He could feel another itch, but this one wasn’t like his urge to sneeze, it was in his blood, reacting to the presence of another magic user. Whoever this guy was, he was throwing off magical energy in waves and Dean’s own magic was feeding off it and going haywire, crackling and fizzing under his skin

“You okay? Are you in some kind of trouble?” Dean prodded, trying again to elicit a response.

Dean hoped the guy was here because he needed help; he didn’t want to fight against someone whose magic was so overwhelming.

The stranger strode up to him, ignoring personal space, and stared at Dean with the same unnerving look as  the cat outside his door.

“You shut the door on me. That was very rude,” the man said.

Dean swallowed. He’d dealt with a lot of magic users in his time, but shapeshifters didn’t come along too often and Dean hadn’t dealt with one yet who wasn’t a sneaky, underhanded bastard.

“You’re the cat from outside,” he said.

The man nodded. “My name is Castiel.”

“Right, Castiel, and what does a shapeshifter want with me?”

Castiel looked offended. “I am not a shapeshifter,” he hissed. “I am a familiar. I am _your_ familiar. Don’t you feel our connection? Our energy?”

Dean shook his head. He’d heard about familiars, every witch worth their salt had. A perfect melding of a witch and a familiar was the stuff of legends, an unbelievable power. A familiar was a vessel, a conduit  that channeled magic to their chosen witch. A witch chosen by a familiar could do things both terrible and awe-inspiring.

Familiars were rare and chose only the greatest witches, the ones who could do the most with their combined gifts. Dean had never known anyone who had a familiar and he in no way  believed he was worthy of one.

“Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I’m not the witch you’re looking for,” he said. “My magic and morals are dubious at best and even if I was one of those great and powerful witches, there’s no way in Hell I’d end up with a cat as a familiar. I’m still allergic to you.”

Castiel frowned.

“I know what I feel,” he said. “I know that I belong to you and you belong to me. I know we are meant. The fact that you’re allergic to cats is only a minor set back.”

“Not from my point of view,” Dean snapped.

Castiel was too close. Everything about him was electrifying, and from where Dean was standing that wasn’t too pleasant. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. His blood felt too hot. He itched. Castiel’s raw, natural magic was too potent and Dean had no idea how to even begin channelling it. He didn’t want to try.

Dean believed in old school magic, in a pint of blood and the bones of the dead, in fire and ash. He believed in giving a part of himself for a spell, that magic came with consequences. The idea of having Castiel, a walking power generator, at his beck and call was terrifying. Dean didn’t have the first clue about this kind of magic.

“I’ve chosen you,” Castiel said calmly. “I felt your magic and I knew you were the one.”

“So what? I don’t get a say?” Dean asked angrily.

Castiel frowned, his brow wrinkling.

“Why would you refuse this bond? I’ve searched for so long to find you, Dean, and you are everything I knew you would be. You are the only witch I could ever give myself to.”

Dean stared at him. This all had to be some kind of a joke. Here was this powerful, potentially ageless creature, that had singled Dean out from any other witch to form a bond with, and Dean refused to believe that was real.

“I told you, I don’t know what your game is, but I’m not playing,” he bit out.

Castiel’s frown deepened.

“This is not a game, I assure you…”

The phone on Dean’s desk rang. He grabbed it on the second ring, glad of the distraction

“Winchester and Bradbury, private investigators. Dean Winchester here,” he said, keeping his eye on Castiel as he spoke.

Castiel didn’t move. He stood there, blinking slowly at Dean, looking perfectly calm and composed, obviously unaffected by the magical charges buzzing between them.

“Dean, it’s Sam,” came the voice on the other end.

“Sammy? Everything okay?” Dean asked.

“Yes, everything’s fine, Dean, and it’s Sam, not Sammy. It hasn’t been Sammy since I was about fourteen.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Right, right,” he interrupted. “Why’d you call then if everything’s okay?”

“I have a case that might require your expertise.”

Sam always used their agency when he needed some digging done on a case, but ‘expertise’ meant this one was going to be strange and Sam needed Dean’s knowledge as a magic user as much as he needed his skills as a PI. He just didn’t want to say that if a client was still in the room.

“Okay, Charlie isn’t in yet, but I’ll head over and get the details. My morning’s free anyway.”

Dean glanced at Castiel again, debating whether or not to tell Sam about the strange man in his office who’d been a cat only a few minutes ago, but he didn’t want to worry Sam. Dean put the phone down slowly, wondering what he should do about Castiel.

Castiel, cocked his head to one side and continued to stare at Dean, waiting for him to make the next move.

“I’m going out,” Dean announced. “You’re not my familiar, I’m allergic to cats and I don’t want this bond. You made a mistake. Have a nice life, but I don’t want you in my office when I get back.”

It was brutal, but it was better to be direct, he decided. He couldn’t stand here all day, arguing. Castiel had made a mistake, he’d picked the wrong witch and Dean was just setting him back on his path to find the right one. Eventually, Castiel would thank him.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. The air around them crackled, for a moment, Dean thought Castiel was going to unleash his magic l at him, but instead there was a pop, a flash of light and in the place Castiel had been standing was the cat version of himself, small and still glaring at Dean.

“Out!” Dean said, pointing at the door.

Castiel didn’t move.

“Fine,” Dean muttered. “But you’d better be gone by the time I come back.”

He grabbed his cup of coffee, stepped around Castiel and headed for the door. As he pushed it open, he started sneezing.

**

The offices of Winchester and Tricksler were in an even more decrepit building than Dean’s own. Dean felt it was at least fitting for a private detective agency to look at bit shabby. People expected it, along with the hard-bitten, heavy drinking detective. They came in looking for Humphrey Bogart and a bit of film noir.

That wasn’t what they were looking for when they headed out in search of a law firm.

Sam could have gone into corporate law. He could have had a nice office and been paid a big fat retainer, but at law school he’d met Gabriel Tricksler who’d convinced him they should go into business together.

Gabriel, for all his many faults, was a firm believer in justice. He’d convinced Sam that everyone deserved legal protection and representation. He’d suggested they set up in the inner city, offer their services to anyone who needed them.

Dean had no idea how they stayed afloat, but they did, and they’d become the unofficial lawyers of choice for magic users.

Sam had the lineage. He could have been a magic user himself, but he found the price he’d have to pay too high. It didn’t bother Dean to lose a pint of blood here or a lock of hair there, but Sam had always said it wasn’t right. The magic they did, what it required, skirted an ethical grey area Sam wasn’t interested in getting involved with.

There was no spark of magic within Gabriel . They were an odd pair to have become confidantes of magic users and non-humans, but when Gabriel said everyone deserved representation, he meant everyone.

Dean knocked gently on their office door before slowly opening it.

The woman sitting in front of Sam’s desk was beautiful, with nut brown skin and dark curls in tight ringlets. No one would have taken her for human though, not with the fine silver wings tucked in tight to her back as she tried to accommodate them in the chair. She was a fairy.

Dean glanced from her to Sam and Gabriel, his eyebrow raised questioningly. He hadn’t met that many fairies in his line of work, but those he had met hadn’t inspired his confidence. Fairies had a reputation for being tricksters. They liked to use their magic and glamour to confuse mortals. There used to be a fae down by the subway who glamored people as he picked their pockets, and another one who ran a crooked poker game Dean had made the mistake of dealing himself into. All that had left him with was a lighter wallet and the knowledge that he could be pixie-led.

Of course, not all fairies were bad. That was an unfair reputation, but that didn’t meant that Dean wasn’t suspicious. Trust Gabriel and Sam to accept one as a client. They probably hadn’t done any background checks and if Dean brought up the fact that fairies weren’t the most reliable clients in the world, Gabriel would accuse him of being prejudiced.

Sam stepped forward, smoothing his hands down his front quickly as if trying to brush off his nerves.  

“This is Gilda, our client. Gilda, my brother, Dean. He’s a private detective.”

“Oh,” Gilda nodded in comprehension. “I’m pleased to meet you, Dean.”

“Yeah, likewise,” Dean said.

When the fairy wasn’t sitting right there in the room with them, Dean would have a word with Sam about vetting his clients more thoroughly before accepting a case. He was also itching to tell Sam about his strange experience this morning, about Castiel, but he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. He’d take Sam out for a beer later and they’d have a good laugh over the idea of any familiar wanting Dean, let alone a cat, but for now he had work to do.

“So, what’s the case?” he asked.

Gabriel was the one who answered him. He had a lollipop in his mouth, and he pulled it out with a pop, pointing it at Dean as spoke.

“She’s being accused of murdering her boss,” he said.

Dean bit his tongue to keep himself from saying anything.

“I haven’t been formally charged,” Gilda said, looking at Dean. “I’ve engaged your brother’s services because I think I will be. The police don’t appear to be looking for other suspects.”

“Right, and why did they suspect you?”

“Apparently my boss was looking to fire me. They found emails and notes on his computer about it, and I was the one who discovered his body.”

“Where did you work?”

“The local free clinic, I’m a nurse. My boss ran the clinic. I’d always thought our working relationship was a good one.”

“And no relationship outside of work?”

“None. I wasn’t romantically interested in him and we weren’t friends.”

Dean could see the reasons she’d be a good suspect. She spoke with detachment, painting a picture of someone who wasn’t particularly upset about her boss’s murder. There was a reasonable motive for why she would have committed the murder and she was a fairy. That last part couldn’t count officially in a courtroom, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t in the minds of the cops questioning her.

“We’re working on following up an avenue the cops haven’t explored,” Sam said. He glanced at Gilda. “Tell him what you told us.”

“A few weeks ago, I left my purse at work after the clinic closed for the day. I have my own set of keys, so I went back to pick it up but all the lights were on and my boss was there. He said he was working late, paperwork, but I’m sure there was someone else in his office with him. I could hear them talking to each other before he realized I was there. I couldn’t hear the words exactly, but I could hear the tone. I think it was an argument. I knocked on the door, I thought I could help, but he wouldn’t let me in. He didn’t even open the door so I couldn’t get a look at who was with him. I thought he might have been treating patients off the books, but the police have intimated that this lead is too vague for them to follow up.”

Dean had to admit it was vague. Gilda’s boss could have been meeting anyone, and even if he was treating someone off the books that was no reason to believe being a good samaritan had got him killed. Hell, even if he was having an argument with someone that didn’t mean it had led to his murder.

“Right, anything else?”

“Yes. It seems these emails and memos about dismissing me only started after that.”

“Okay, that’s suspicious,” Dean agreed.

It didn’t mean Gilda wasn’t guilty, but it certainly suggested something less than ethical was going on at the free-clinic, something that could get a nurse fired from her job simply on the off chance that she’d overheard.

“So, what do you want me to do?” he asked.

“We want you to break into the clinic, into her boss’s office more specifically, and see if you can find any leads that point the way to what was going on after hours,” Gabriel said.

“If Gilda is charged, we need evidence of reasonable doubt to present to a jury,” Sam added.

Dean sighed. He wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to Sam this evening, not if breaking and entering was on the cards.

“It’s gonna be my usual flat rate, plus expenses. You’re paying for my dinner.” he said.

Gabriel and Sam exchanged equally guilty glances. Dean wondered how they ever coped inside a courtroom. The prosecution must have eaten them for lunch. He knew what they were about to say before either one of them even opened their mouths.

“Would you take an IOU?” Gabriel ventured.

***

“So, we’ve got a new case?” Charlie asked.

Her voice sounded far away, muffled by the static of the phone. Dean had to strain to hear her.

Charlie had that effect on electronics. They just went haywire around her.

“Yeah, fairy accused of murder,” He said, shifting to get more comfortable. “She says she didn’t do it, Gabriel believes her. Sam wants me to check out her boss’s office, see if I can find any proof something sketchy was going on and get them another suspect.”

“Where’d she work?”

Dean could faintly hear the sound of keys tapping as Charlie typed up the information. He felt as if half his like was spent on calls like this, sitting in his car, updating Charlie on the latest.

“Free clinic. She’s a nurse. Her boss was the head of the clinic.”

“A fairy and a nurse? And you didn’t call me!”

“You’re the one who told me not to call you before 10am. If you want to sleep in, it’s your loss.”

“Was she pretty?”

“Yeah, in a scared, ‘I think I’m going to jail’ way. Charlie, she might have killed a guy.”

“Don’t ruin the dream, Winchester. I’m not actually planning on asking one of your brother’s clients out. I’m just indulging in a little harmless fantasy.”

“Fine. I’ll be out late tonight, okay?”

“I’ll monitor the radio waves, make sure I don’t pick up anything about a break in.”

Dean nodded.

“Yeah, I really don’t want to be arrested for breaking into a crime scene.”

“I’ve got your back, Dean. Don’t worry about it.”

**

There were lots of things Dean liked about his job.

Camping out in his car, burger wrappers littered on the floor, waiting for it to be dark enough to try breaking and entering without too many people around to notice wasn’t one of them. He’d eaten enough cheap drive through to make him feel full and get his energy up, so if he had to do any magic tonight he’d have the strength for it.

Sometimes, Dean envied those magic users whose power came from an outside source, not inside themselves. Charlie didn’t get tired doing her magic, or have to worry about the long term effects of losing blood. She just plugged herself into the nearest electrical socket and rode the currents.

When Dean had first met Gabriel, the man had treated Dean’s magic like it was a neat parlor trick. Every time they’d been the same room together, it wouldn’t have been more than five minutes before Gabriel was asking Dean to show him something. At first, Dean had indulged him because he was Sammy’s friend. He’d shown him little things- lighting a candle, making the paperweight on his desk levitate for a few seconds - the kind of magic that required an eyelash or a fingernail clipping to get right.

Then he’d nearly scared Gabriel to death by showing him what his magic could really do and the price Dean paid when he wanted to use it. It had been when Sam and Gabriel acquired their offices. The last occupant of the building had fallen to his death. The police had said suicide. Sam was iffy about signing the lease before he knew that was true. Gabriel had joked about how if the guy had really been murdered then he could be their first client.

He’d stopped joking when Dean had drawn chalk runes on the floor, set up his candles, cut the palm of his hand and spilled his blood over the runes to draw forth the man’s spirit from the afterlife. It had been a suicide, and Sam signed the lease with a clear conscience, but Gabriel had been nervous around Dean for weeks afterwards. He never asked Dean to do another magic trick for him though.

Dean smiled at the memory. Gabriel always reminded him one of those little, annoying dogs. All bark, no bite. The moment he’d seen what real magic could do, he’d gone scampering with his tail between his legs. Still, he had come back. He might not want to see Dean’s magic up close anymore, but he saw it’s potential and working for Sam and Gabriel was a steady source of employment for Dean and Charlie.

Dean glanced out of the window, looking up at the apartment building that stood next to the clinic. Most of the lights were off now, not too many people up  and those that were  probably had other distractions like computers or tv to keep them occupied. No one in that apartment building had admitted to seeing anything the night of the murder. Hopefully they’d be just as blind to his activities now.

He got out of his car, locking it behind him. There were warding spells carved into doors and under the hood and trunk. Anyone who tried to take the car, would be in for a nasty surprise, but that didn’t mean Dean didn’t take other, more mundane precautions. There were few things he cared about more than his car.

He made his way across the street, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. There was police tape across the front door, but no one standing guard any longer, which was a good thing, Dean didn’t like using magic to hurt people or confuse them. His magic might fall under the umbrella of a big moral grey area - contacting the dead, wards and defensive spells, the occasional tracking spell - but he didn’t like using his magic to hurt anyone, especially people who couldn’t fight back against it.

Dean reached in his pocket and pulled out the small set of lockpicks he kept for just occasions. There were spells that could do the job just as well, but Dean prefered to work with his hands when he had the choice. It was a skill his dad had taught him and it was always good to conserve his energy incase he needed to use his magic later. After a few moments careful work, the front door lock opened and Dean was able to push the door wide. He ducked under the crime scene tape, shut the front door behind him and made his way through the clinic to the office at the back.

This had been where Gilda had found her boss’s body, lying in a pool of his own blood. The body had been removed, the carpet cut up and taken by forensics, and the room all but emptied. If there had been anything obvious to find then whoever the killer was would have taken it, or else the police would surely have discovered it by now.

Dean cursed softly. He had to hope that the dead man had been the sort who had a secret hiding place, or else he was going back to Sam and Gabriel with a dead end.

He stood in the room, breathing shallowly as he thought about the options he had, and slowly Dean grew aware that it wasn’t only his own breathing he could hear.

There was someone behind him, someone who had followed him in from outside on the streets.

At least this boded well for there being another suspect. If Dean made it out alive, Sam would be pleased. He always knew they were on the right track when Dean had a near brush with death.

Dean turned quickly, not giving the man behind him time to react before he’d forced him back against the wall, grabbed both of his arms and pinned them high above his head.

“Who are you? Why are you following me?” Dean asked angrily.

A pair of confused blue eyes blinked at him in the muted light and Dean found himself cursing again.

“Castiel? What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed.

“‘I’ve been following you,” Castiel said. “I have all day. You’re my witch. I’m not supposed to leave your side.”

Dean hadn’t noticed Castiel, or any little black cats, trotting behind him as he went about his day, which didn’t bode well for his powers of observation. And Castiel must have been keeping a safe distance since Dean hadn’t been sneezing.

He still had Castiel pinned to the wall, a fact he was growing more aware of with every second, his hands where he held Castiel starting to feel uncomfortably hot, his skin prickling and itching again. Quickly, Dean let go, stepping back to put some distance between them.

“You can’t be here. I’m working, okay? This is my job.”

“You break into buildings for a living?” Castiel asked.

Dean sighed.

“Yeah, sure, that’s what I do. Look, I’m trying to find something and I thought I made it clear to you this morning that you’re not my familiar, so go home or go stalk another witch. I need to do my job.”

“You told me this morning that you didn’t want me, but you can’t deny our bond,” Castiel said. “I choose you.”

“Well I didn’t choose you. And frankly, Cas, you made a lousy choice.”

Castiel tilted his head to one side, gazing at Dean as if he didn’t understand.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Why?” Dean said, louder and more angrily than he’d meant. “I am no good and you should know that. No familiar should be shackling himself to a witch who uses dark magic.”

Once the words were out, Dean knew he couldn’t take them back. He didn’t like admitting what his magic was, not even to himself. He chose to pretend he worked in shades of grey, in morally dubious areas but there was nothing dubious about the magic he performed. That was why it required a sacrifice, why it was fed from blood and bone, because the magic he used was wicked and it fed from death and destruction.

Castiel’s eyes were wide, his breathing heavy.

“That isn’t true…” he started, but Dean cut him off.

“Yes, it is,” he said, although he hated admitting it to himself, let alone to anyone else, he wasn’t worthy of a familiar. Castiel should realize that now, before he hurt himself trying to form a bond with a dark magic user. “Cas, you have no idea about the things I’ve done. I’ve desecrated graves, I’ve summoned the dead. I have spilled my own blood again and again to get the answers I want. I know this is dark magic and I know the price it comes with. You don’t want to be mixed up with me.”

“You’re wrong,” Castiel said with slow deliberation.

He held up his hand, effectively silencing Dean before he could refute that for a second time.

“I do know you, Dean. I know the kind of magic you use and you are self-sacrificing. It’s your blood, your bone, that you use in your spells. You don’t hurt others. You’re a good man, Dean, and I am your familiar.”

Dea felt his breath catch in his throat. He wanted to believe that what Castiel said was true, that he lessened the evil of his magic by drawing the sacrifice from his own body rather than hunting down an innocent to use, but he couldn’t.

He had seen this magic, his magic, drive his father mad. John Winchester had burned out in one final, wicked spell so powerful and filled with all his rage and pain that it had consumed him. That was the magic that ran through Dean’s veins and he couldn’t believe anyone, least of all a familiar, could look at what Dean was capable of and seek to enhance that. Castiel might say he knew what and who Dean was, but he had no idea. Dean punished himself each time he used his magic because his magic was a punishment.

He didn’t deserve to have a familiar to ease his burden.

“You’re wrong, okay? You’re just wrong. You don’t know anything and you’re going to get yourself hurt if you don’t stop.”

Castiel frowned.

Somewhere outside, he recognized the sound of a door opening, the same door he’d pushed open just a few minutes before.  He wanted to argue with Dean, to explain just how wrong it was, but that noise unnerved him. Someone else was in the building with them.

“Are you even listening to me?” Dean hissed.

“We’re not alone, ” Castiel said, glancing towards the door.

In the silence that followed, the sound of footsteps outside the office were audible.

Dean looked around the room desperately. There had to be somewhere for them to hide. Dean didn’t want to be arrested, nor did he want to go toe to toe with a murderer. There was Castiel to consider too. Dean’s life was a string of these late night, dangerous situations, but Castiel was in over his head.

There was a door on the other side of the room. Dean had no idea where it led, but anywhere had to be better than out in plain sight in the middle of the office. He motioned for Castiel to follow him. It only took seconds to cross the room, but every second seemed to take forever. Any moment now, the office door was going to open.

Dean yanked the side door open, shoved Castiel in ahead of him and followed him quickly, pulling the door shut just as he heard the office door handle start to rattle.

Dean stepped away from the door, right back into Castiel.

“Dean, this is a closet,” Castiel hissed.

Dean felt his heart sink.

Of all the places he could be trapped, of all the places Castiel could be trapped with him, it would have to be a closet. It couldn’t have been a door into an examination room or anything sensible like that. It had to be a the door to closet where he’d be stuck with a cat allergy and his own cat familiar.

He turned carefully to face Castiel, edging round in the small space the closet provided, but almost as soon as he’d done that he realized he’d made a mistake. Now Castiel was pressed to chest to chest against him, his hair tickling Dean’s nose and any moment now Dean was going to have a sneezing fit.

“Do you want me to transform?” Castiel whispered. “You’d have more room.”

“No,” Dean gasped quickly. “It’s bad enough when you’re human. Fuck, don’t do that.”

Castiel nodded and Dean scrunched up his face, trying to keep his nose out of Castiel’s soft, ticklish hair.

He tried to concentrate on what was going on outside, back in the office. If he kept his mind on the clear and present danger, hopefully he wouldn’t find himself paying attention to the man pressed tightly against him.  

Outside the door Dean could hear drawers being pulled out, furniture overturned. Someone was ransacking the place, Dean just prayed that they didn’t decide to include the closet in their search.

He was still hyper aware of Castiel, heat radiating from the places they pressed together, his body responding to Castiel in a way Dean couldn’t remember ever having responded to another magic user in his life. He burned, but when they were as close as this it was almost pleasant. It wasn’t the same as the itching he’d felt back in his office and that scared him.

What if he hadn’t been reacting negatively to Castiel, but instead suffering the first physical signs of their bond? He had refused to let Castiel any closer to him than was strictly necessary and his magic had ached, having Castiel so close, but not anywhere near as close as he really wanted.

That didn’t change the fact that he was still allergic to Castiel’s cat form, but it did suggest that they might be compatible in other ways, just like Castiel had said.

Dean strained his ears to hear what was being said outside, forcing himself to focus back on the men and their search, not on Castiel and how strangely natural it felt to be in such a close proximity to him, their magics intermingling.

“Damn it!” a man swore, and Dean heard something being thrown on the floor in anger. “It’s not here.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t shot him, you would have got what you wanted,” a second voice drawled, almost sounding amused.

“Maybe if he’d given me the disc like I asked, I wouldn’t have had to shoot him,” the first voice said.

“You were going to kill him anyway. The whole operation was becoming messy. Still, he could have provided us with his records before his unfortunate demise.”

“It’s going to make the job harder.”

“Yes, that is one of the reasons why the good doctor’s demise is so unfortunate.”

“I should have shot him in the kneecaps first,” the first voice lemented. “Then he would have told me where the disc was.”

Dean furrowed his brow. What were these guys talking about? They’d admitted to murder, so he knew Gilda was innocent, but there was clearly a motive here that the cops hadn’t uncovered. Dean wished he could sneak a look at them. He might know one of them, although he didn’t recognize the voices.

Dean needed to find whatever it was the two men were looking for. That was his lead, his chance to bust the case wide open and provide Sam with proof of his client’s innocence.

Listening to the two men outside discuss the murder, Dean was more sure than ever that there’d be some clue as to what kind of operation the doctor had been involved in and why it had lead to his death.

“There’s nothing here for us,” the second voice said. “No point in staying any longer than necessary.”

“I still think we should torch the place.”

“That’s your answer to everything. You’ve got no style.”

“Arson is a style. I get the job done.”

“Not yet. The police have no idea about our involvement. They have their suspect and they aren’t looking any further. Arson would simply alert them to the possibility that they’ve got it wrong.”

“Fine,” the first voice grumbled. “I’m going to smash a few things in the clinic, let them think this break in was about drugs.”

“Now you’re thinking,” the second voice said approvingly.

There was the sound of footsteps, the door to the office opening and falling shut, then nothing. Dean breathed out a sigh of relief, whoever those two men had been, they wouldn’t have hesitated to kill both him and Castiel if they’d found them. It was only luck that had stopped their search where it had. Dean could picture an alternative reality all too easily, a reality which ended in brutal, sudden death.

“Who were those men?” Castiel asked.

“I don’t know,” Dean said quietly.

He’d wracked his brain but he was sure he’d never heard either of those voices before and they’d been distinctive. Now he’d heard them, he knew he’d never forget them.

Dean looked down at Castiel, realizing retroactively that at some point he’d put his arms around the shorter man, had pulled him in. He’d wanted Castiel closer, his magic had craved their connection, but it had also been a protective impulse. If the closet door had been opened, Dean’s body would have been shielding Castiel. Castiel wouldn’t have even been there if not  for Dean.

“Do you get it now?” he hissed. “Do you get that my life is dangerous? You can’t be a part of it. Don’t you understand that?”

He wanted Castiel to understand, to agree that this was too much. He knew Castiel was frightened. He could feel it in the way he’d tensed when those men had been talking, in the way he’d pressed closer to Dean, trying to seek comfort from him. Dean didn’t care if there was a bond between them, if their magics called out for each other. The only way he could keep Castiel safe was to keep him away. He couldn’t have a familiar trailing round after him. He couldn’t take the chance that Castiel might get hurt because of him.

Castiel looked up at him, tensing his jaw, a defiant glint in his eyes.

“I’m not leaving,” he said. “This hasn’t changed anything. I meant what I said, Dean.”

Dean shook his head angrily.

“You’re not even thinking this through. Look, we’ll get out of here and you should just go home, just think about what it is you’re doing because  you’ll realize I’m right, that you don’t want to be part of this.”

“We’re not going yet,” Castiel said.

“What?” Dean asked, taken aback.

He would have thought after what had happened, Castiel would want to hightail it out of there. He’d been planning to drop Castiel off somewhere safe and then come back. He hadn’t expected that Castiel planned on staying too.

“You want to find what those men were looking for, don’t you?” Castiel asked. “Use me. Use my magic and do a location spell. If something’s hidden, we’ll find it. I know we will.”

Dean didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of using Castiel’s magic as a shortcut, feeding off him as the sacrifice, but on the other hand it would give them a chance to discover just what had been going on that had got the doctor killed.

But, if Dean allowed Castiel to be part of this, to help just this once, they would be able to get out of this god forsaken office sooner and then Dean could get Castiel somewhere safe.

“Fine,” he snapped. “But this is a one time thing.”

Castiel smiled at him, just like the cat that got the cream and Dean was reminded of just how feline he really was. He was also reminded of the fact that, even with Castiel so close to him, his allergies didn’t seem to be acting up which was strange, but not something he wanted to examine too closely.

Dean’s dad had always said the end justified the means and if his dad had been presented with a familiar who’d been willing to help with his magic, he wouldn’t have hesitated. He would have grabbed hold of that promised power with both hands. Dean was just doing what his dad would have done, he reasoned.

“So, do I need to get my candles out and draw a circle or what?” Dean asked, wondering how magic worked once a familiar was in the picture.

Castiel shook his head.

“No, just hold my hands. You don’t need a circle. I’ll channel your magic.”

“Okay,” Dean said, nervously taking hold of Castiel’s hands, lacing their fingers together. “This kind of stuff usually knocks me out. I don’t...what if those guys come back?”

“It won’t hurt you. I am the vessel. I am the sacrifice. I am enough, more than enough,” Castiel assured him. “You will not be harmed.”

Dean nodded, still unsure. He’d never attempted magic without a ritual. He had no idea how this would work without his candles or markings. And the idea of hurting Castiel was abhorrent to him.

“It won’t hurt you, will it?” he asked quietly.

Castiel smiled again, softer this time and with so much warmth that Dean felt overwhelmed. He didn’t understand how Castiel could look at him like that, as if Dean was everything good in the world.

“You won’t hurt me. I am more powerful than you could imagine. Any pain is like a pinprick to me.”

“Okay.”

Dean found himself nodding again, almost in disbelief.

He didn’t understand how something as powerful as Castiel could need him, need his magic. If he found out Castiel had lied, that this did hurt him or deplete him, then Dean didn’t think he could ever forgive himself for trusting the familiar. He had never wanted to use anyone else’s body to feed his spells.

He felt Castiel’s hot breath ghost against his cheek as the other laughed softly.

“You worry too much, Dean.”

Dean gritted his teeth, shutting his eyes and clutching Castiel’s hands in his own. He didn’t want to be goaded into performing the spell, but Castiel got under his skin. He knew just what to say, just what Dean needed to hear to make him reckless enough to attempt this.

Dean felt the spell burning in him, the twist of it in his gut as he started to chant, but it was gone almost instantly, soothed like water had been poured over it. He didn’t break his concentration, didn’t open his eyes, but focused on the words, on the spell. It was the first time he had been free to do just that without the nagging sensation of pain crippling his body. He had never known how truly bad that pain was until it was taken away.

It took only seconds to complete. Dean opened his eyes, blinking at the sudden harsh white light that assaulted him as he did.

The whole closet was flooded with light, the ceiling panel above them lit up with magical energy. The tracking spell had worked and it had worked far better than any time Dean had attempted it on his own. He’d only been able to conjure a faint, golden glow to indicate the hiding place he was looking for. This was almost painful and more than that it was shining directly down on to them.

He and Castiel were standing right underneath the hiding place those men had been looking for a moment before. Dean almost laughed, but he couldn’t. The conversation between those two men, the casual way they’d talked about murder, was still ringing in his ears.

He and Castiel had been standing directly under the disc they’d been looking for. If those men had opened the closet door….

Dean shook his head, dropping Castiel’s hands. He couldn’t look at Castiel. He felt sick to his stomach.

“The spell worked,” Castiel said, stating the obvious.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, I think I’m blind now, Cas. You didn’t tell me it was going to be so bright.”

“I wasn’t aware we were standing in the same place as the artifact we were searching for,” Castiel said. “I would have tampered my power otherwise.”

Dean nodded, but he wasn’t really paying attention. He reached up to push the ceiling tile above them, finding it loose. He pushed it up and aside, then reached his hand in, standing on the balls of his feet as he did so. A few seconds of scrabbling and his fingers landed on what he was searching for. Not a disc, but a data stick.

That made more sense. After all, who used discs anymore? Charlie would have had a laughing fit if he’d brought her one of those to play around with. It also meant that those men from before didn’t know exactly what they were looking for, just that they were looking for hidden information. Dean stared down at the data stick, wondering just what was stored on it that could have been so important.

He’d pass the data stick on to Charlie and she’d be able to tell him what was on there. Charlie hadn’t met an encryption code she couldn’t destroy. Now they had some evidence that could point him in the right direction. He could tell Sam they were one step closer to keeping his client out of a courtroom.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing Castiel’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

**

“So I was useful, wasn’t I?” Castiel asked.

They were walking towards the Impala, Dean only half-listening, hands driven deep into his jacket pockets, fingering the data stick his mind on the puzzle of just what could be recorded on it. Castiel didn’t seem to notice how distracted Dean was, however. He looked positively giddy, as if his brush with danger hadn’t affected him at all, as though all he wanted was for Dean to tell him what a good boy he’d been.

“Yeah,” Dean said grudgingly. “I guess you weren’t too bad back there.”

It didn’t mean he’d allow Castiel to accompany him again in the future and next time he’d be on the lookout for any familiars skulking around in the shadows.

The first shot came out of nowhere, whizzing past Dean’s cheek.

Castiel let out an indignant, angry noise, turning in the direction that the shot had come from, but Dean acted on instinct. He threw himself at Castiel, knocking him to the ground. A second shot and then a third rang out, echoing noisily but sailing high above them; warning shots.

Dean didn’t care, he was focused on Castiel below him, trying to cover him bodily. He could feel Castiel’s heart beat, could feel it racing. In that split second when the first bullet had been fired Dean had forgotten about the data stick in his pocket. He’d forgotten about his own safety. The only thought in his mind had been protecting Castiel.

He pinned Castiel to the ground, waiting for another shot, listening for footsteps or the sound of car tires but there was nothing. Dean had no idea how long he lay there waiting. It felt like hours, the only sounds he could hear his own breathing and the hammering of Castiel’s heart.

“Dean,” Castiel gasped. “Dean, I think they’re gone.”

“They shot at us,” Dean growled, his anger overtaking everything else. “They shot at you.”

“They were much closer to hitting you,” Castiel objected.

Dean swallowed. It felt like those words brought the world back into focus. Someone had shot at both of them, most likely one of the two men who’d been inside the doctor’s office. They needed to get out of there as quickly as they could. It was all well and good playing the hero and shielding Castiel, but he wasn’t thinking.

“Come on, to the car. We need to get out of here,” he said, pulling Castiel up.

He hurried him to the Impala, his fingers shaking as he tried to find the keys. Every second he struggled  felt too long, but at last he grabbed them and managed to unlock the door, shoving Castiel down into the passenger seat before running round the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.

A moment later and the Impala’s engine was roaring into life. Dean put his foot down, determined to get them as far away from the free clinic as possible. The streets were almost empty at that time of night and Dean knew all the back roads. He drove for miles, crossing back and forth until he was confident that no one was following them. Only then did he allow himself to take the familiar road back to his apartment. Only then did he let himself glance across at Castiel, curled up in the passenger seat.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you back there,” he said. “I just...I acted on instinct.”

Castiel nodded.

“It’s not a problem,” he said quietly. “I would just like to be clean. The ground was dirty. It’s a cat thing.”

“Oh, right,” Dean said. “Look, we’re heading back to my place. You can get a shower there.”

He knew that he really should go straight to the office. He still had the data stick in his pocket. He should hand that over to Charlie, or put it somewhere safe. He should probably call Sam and tell him what he’d found or just tell him he was alive, but Dean didn’t want to do any of those things.

He wanted to go home and he wanted to take Castiel with him.

Dean could count on the fingers of one hand how many hours he’d spent in his apartment over the last few months. It was somewhere he’d never taken a practical stranger to, but he couldn’t really consider Castiel a stranger anymore, even if they had only known each other for a number of hours. As much as Dean was determined to resist claiming Castiel as his familiar, he felt the bond between them. He needed to have Castiel with him, somewhere he could keep an eye on him.

Dean parked a block away from his apartment, a precaution he wouldn’t normally have taken, but for tonight he was happy to let his wards do their work and keep his car safe. Tonight, his priorities had changed.

Dean hurried them along the sidewalk, between the pools of light from the street lamps, alert for any strange noise or sound. He knew they hadn’t been followed, but that didn’t help him relax. Any moment now he expected to hear another gunshot.

Dean felt secure in his apartment. It was warded, just like the car, and he’d set a few extra traps for any magic users that might be tempted to try to track him down. There were hex bags under the floorboards in every room. It might seem extreme, but to Dean it had always made sense to take extra precautions and tonight had just proved him right.

He unlocked his apartment door and stepped in first, in front of Castiel. That was another precaution. He didn’t want any of wards or hexes triggered by the presence of a new magic user.

“Come in, Cas,” Dean said, turning back to look at the man stood in his doorway.

The second he invited Castiel in, taking his hand to pull him across the threshold, he felt the spells rewriting themselves, working Castiel into the small band of people Dean had willingly allowed into his sanctum. Now Castiel could come and go as he pleased.

The apartment wasn’t much, but it was Dean’s. There was a living room with a small kitchen crammed into one corner and two smaller rooms - one a bedroom and one a bathroom. Dean had never needed more space. He’d lived alone since Sam went to college. He’d never had a serious relationship and he’d never invited any of his one night stands back to his apartment; always insisted on going back to their place.  

Now, standing inside the little apartment with Castiel, Dean was aware of how little space he really had.

He turned away from Castiel, shutting the door and locking it, sliding the deadbolts he’d installed when he first moved in. It gave him a few seconds to think about what he was going to do with Castiel now that he had him here.

“Look, I’ll make up the couch, you sleep in the bedroom, okay? I’m not going to get much sleep tonight anyway so the couch is best for me,” Dean said.

He expected Castiel to put up some kind of fight, to insist that Dean should have the bed since it was his house, but Castiel only nodded.

“If you think that’s best,” he said.

“Yeah,” Dean said, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. “Bathroom’s the second door. You can wash in there and there’s a towel in there too. I’ll get you some clothes to change into. We can wash your stuff in the sink.”

“I could always just turn into a cat and groom myself,” Castiel said.

Dean wrinkled his nose. “No, Cas. Get in the shower,” he said, pointing towards the door he wanted Castiel to go through.

He didn’t want Castiel  shedding hair all over his apartment. He didn’t want to be stuck sneezing and wheezing because he’d invited a cat familiar to stay over with him.

Castiel sighed wearily, as if Dean was asking a lot of him, and shuffled towards the bathroom. He shut the door loudly after him.

Dean listen for a few seconds until he heard water running, then headed into his bedroom. He grabbed an old AC/DC shirt that he hadn’t worn in years but he figured might be something that would fit Castiel, laid it out on the bed, along with a pair of boxer shorts, then raided the closet for a spare blanket and pillows.

**

Dean had just finished setting up the couch when the bathroom door opened and Castiel stepped out. He was wrapped in only a towel, his hair damp and skin flushed from the warm shower. Dean knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help himself. His eyes swept up and down the length of Castiel’s body, taking in the elegant slender legs, the water droplets caught on his collar bone, the gentle glow in his cheeks. Castiel was good looking and Dean wanted to admire every inch of him. He found himself cursing the towel that was in the way, preventing him from seeing the rest of Castiel’s naked body.

“Dean?” Castiel said, snapping him out of his study.

“What? Oh, right. There are some clothes on the bed, just some old stuff of mine, but it should fit you. You can go to sleep if you want. I’m gonna stay up and watch some TV, maybe raid the fridge,” Dean said, the words spilling out of his mouth.

He didn’t want to stand there babbling like an idiot, but it was hard not to when Castiel  looked like he’d walked out of a wet dream. Dean would have said he knew how to flirt, but most of his flirting took place in bars after he’d sized up the crowd and planned out his first move. He hadn’t expected Castiel to step out of the bathroom looking as good as he did. It had thrown him and now Dean was grasping at the first thoughts that came to mind, just to fill the space and stop himself from saying something even more embarrassing.

Castiel narrowed his eyes slightly, looking at Dean with some concern before he headed in the direction of the bedroom.

Dean watched him go, tilting his head to the side to get a better view of the way the towel hugged the curve of Castiel’s ass.

**

“You said there would be food.”

Dean looked behind him, startled. He’d thought Castiel had gone to bed, but he was standing there in the doorway of the bedroom, looking tired and grouchy and like the t-shirt Dean had given him was two sizes too big on him. Dean knew he was staring again.

Castiel looked so unbelievably right in Dean’s clothes and Dean didn’t deny the swell of possessive pleasure that washed over him.

“Yeah, I can get you some food,” he said, getting to his feet and stretching. “What do you like to eat?

“Most things. I like meat,” Castiel said.

“Yeah? I’ve got a meat feast pizza in the freezer. I’ll just turn the oven on. Grab a seat, okay?”

It would take a while for his old oven to warm up, Dean knew that. He switched it on,then turned back to look at Castiel. Castiel had curled himself up on one corner of the couch, knees tucked under him. His eyes darted around the room, alert and searching, and Dean wondered if Castiel was having just as much trouble calming down as he was.

“It’s gonna be a little while,” he said, dropping down onto the couch next to Castiel,  looking for some way to start a conversation, to get Castiel’s mind off what had happened tonight. He really didn’t know all that much about Castiel apart from the fact that he was a familiar and he professed to be Dean’s familiar. There were so many gaps he needed to fill in about who Castiel was and where he’d come from.

“You got any brothers and sisters?” he asked.

“Millions,” Castiel said. “All familiars are interlinked, like a family of sorts, but it’s not a close bond. We simply acknowledge that we are made of the same things.”

Dean couldn’t help wondering, were they made of starlight? The atoms of magic? It wasn't a question he felt comfortable asking Castiel. It was probably something a witch should know, especially one who had a familiar.

Of course, Dean’s knowledge had come second hand from his dad’s journal and the hints and tips John Winchester passed down over the years. Familiars had never featured in great depth. He only cared about harnessing magic for his mission. The history of magic and the evolution of familiars had not been part of that.  

“Do you have family?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, two brothers. You’ll meet Sam, he’s a lawyer. Adam is finishing med school so we don’t see him much. He’s a couple of states away.”

“And they’re both witches?”

Dean combed his fingers through his hair, leaning back against the couch.

“Well, yeah, but Sam doesn’t like to use his magic. He doesn’t approve of it, says it’s dark magic. Adam’s magic is different. He didn’t inherit it from our dad. He’s got a different mom and he got his powers from her side.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he’s really good with herbs and potions and medicines. It’s why he’s going to be such a good doctor. His magic makes people better.”

“I like the sound of both you brothers, Dean. They seem like good people. I admire Sam’s conviction.”

Dean nodded, not sure what to say to that. They slipped back into silence. Castiel played with them of the old t-shirt he was wearing, Dean glanced at him and tried not to get caught looking.

“What about your parents? Do you have parents?” Dean asked.

“No,” Castiel said. “Familiars aren’t born. We are created by magical energy. We come to be naturally within the order of magic.”

That at least explained the link that Castiel had talked about with other familiars. They were all made of magical energy. It was hard for Dean to picture a life without his parents. Even though they were both gone, the impression they had made on him lived on. It was difficult to imagine an existence like Castiel’s where you came into the world on your own.

Castiel seemed to know what he was thinking. He reached out, laying his hand gently on top of Dean’s.

“You are my family now.”

Dean stared at the hand covering his own. He didn’t know how to make sense of Castiel. He didn’t understand why anyone like Castiel would want to choose Dean.

“What about your parents?” Castiel asked.

“Dead,” Dean answered automatically. “My mother died when I was four. She was killed, murdered, but we never found out who did it. My dad said it was our duty to keep going where the cops failed. They said they couldn’t get any leads, but my dad never believed that they tried hard enough. He made it his life’s mission to track down her killer and he dragged me and Sam in too.”

Dean swallowed. His mouth suddenly felt dry. It was hard talking about the past. He didn’t even talk about it with Sam. Every memory of his mother, of the loving woman she was, had become tainted by the things they’d done to find her killer.She hadn’t been his mother any more, she’d been a martyr they had to avenge.

“My dad’s mission stopped being about justice and started being about revenge,” he said, his eyes pinned on the soft hand that was still covering his own. “He didn’t care what he did, who he hurt. He threw Sam out in the end because Sam put his foot down, told him he wasn’t going to help any longer. I was never that brave. I did what I was told, I just wouldn't hurt people.”

Dean drew in a deep breath. This part of the story had been on his mind ever since he met Castiel. The memory of it still haunted him. It woke Dean up at night, drenched in a cold sweat, wondering, if he’d got there a few minutes earlier, if his father could have been saved.

“Dad ended up killing himself. He was consumed by the thought of revenge. He tried to summon an oracle to find out the name of the man who killed Mom, but the spell backfired on him, burned him up. He’d left me a voice mail. I must have got there minutes after it happened. The ashes were still hot.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. That must have been terrible for you,”Castiel said.

He squeezed Dean’s hand. It was such a little gesture, but it did help. Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d let anyone outside of family be this close to him - physically or emotionally. Charlie knew the story, but she was practically his sister, and Sam had been the first person Dean had called when it happened.

But now there was also Castiel, who said Dean was his family.

“I can understand why your brother doesn’t like to use his magic,” Castiel said quietly. “It sounds as if you both saw the worst side of it.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, slightly uncomfortable now he had bared that part of his soul. “I mean Sam and me are still hoping we might find Mom’s killer, but we’re working with what we’ve got and there are other people who need our help. It’s not a mission of revenge for us.”

“Good,” Castiel said. “Because I am not prepared to lose you.”

The intensity of those words, of the way Castiel looked at him when he said them, was too much for Dean. He shifted, dislodging Castiel’s hand from his, and frantically sought to change the subject to anything else.

“So, any lady cats you got your eye on?” he asked.

Castiel gave him a piteous look.

“No, Dean,” he said.

“Boy cats? I’m open minded.”

Castiel sighed audibly.

“Dean, I am not sure how much you fully understand about our bond,” he said.

“I’m still not convinced we have a bond,” Dean said.

Castiel smiled slightly. “Our bond is physical, spiritual, and sexual,” Castiel said simply. “I have no interest in anyone but you, Dean. You are the first, and only, person I have ever felt any desire for.”

“Whoa, what? And that’s normal?” Dean asked. “I mean, for familiars and witches?”

Castiel nodded. “Every bond is different, but it’s one of the more common ones. I believe you feel it too, don’t you?”

“Was it that obvious?”

Castiel smiled again. This time it was a wider smile, a happier smile. Dean found himself smiling back. It was simple, easy, to feel this way about Castiel. To have him close felt right, just like seeing Castiel in Dean’s  t-shirt felt right. Although, Dean still found it hard to believe someone like Castiel would choose him over all other possible witches on the planet, he could feel the physical connection of their bond. Castiel was his.

He reached for Castiel,  “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right,” he said. “We’re going to bed.”

Castiel was a solid weight in his arms. He wrapped himself around Dean like a limpet, clinging to him as Dean stood up. Dean put his hands under Castiel’s ass, supporting him but also to give it a good squeeze, and carried him to the bedroom.

Dean’s bed had just been somewhere to grab a few hours shut eye, but after tonight it would be the place he and Cas slept together for the first time. Dean knew this wasn’t a line they could pretend they hadn’t crossed in the morning. He set Castiel down carefully on the bed, taking a moment to admire him. Castiel arched his back, looking pleased to be the centre of Dean’s attention.

“You’re not wearing underwear,” Dean noted, grinning.

Castiel squirmed, the t-shirt riding up higher on his hips, exposing his cock which was already thickening.

“T-shirt was more than big enough,” he said. “Besides, I noticed how you looked at me.”

“And you didn’t want any extra layers in the way,” Dean said knowingly.

He stripped quickly, kicking off his jeans and wriggling out of his shirt, shedding every layer. Dean dropped onto the bed beside Castiel, tugged the t-shirt off and threw it somewhere over his shoulder, onto the bedroom floor, leaving Castiel naked too.

Castiel spread his legs and reached for him, tugging Dean down on top of him, letting Dean fit between them.

It was natural, the way their bodies fit together. Dean had never known sex that seemed so intimate, so familiar, the first time with someone. He ran his hands over Castiel’s thighs, feeling the soft skin there and leaned in to kiss Castiel.

The first press of their lips together was gentle, but it didn’t remain that way for long.

Castiel kissed hungrily, all passion and no technique. He was so eager and Dean loved it. He could feel Castiel’s hard cock pressing against his own and as he rocked their bodies together, Castiel moaned into the kiss.

“I need you,” Castiel gasped, breaking their kiss for a few seconds, pressing his hips up demandingly against Dean’s. “I need you inside me.”

“Good, good,” Dean murmured, kissing him again.

He hadn’t known how to start a conversation about positions or his own desires, but he didn’t need to. Castiel was firm about what he wanted and it was what Dean wanted too. Once again Dean was struck by the way in which they harmonized together, like two halves of a whole.

He rolled away from Castiel just for moment, enjoying the way Castiel groaned in frustration and reached for him, and dug in the beside table for the thing he needed - lubricant.

“Dean,” Castiel whined. “I need you.”

“You’re pretty demanding, aren’t you?” Dean said, grinning.

He settled back between Castiel’s spread thighs, pouring a generous amount of lubricant on to his fingers.

“I know what I want,” Castiel said confidently, lifting his hips.

Dean pressed one finger to Castiel’s hole, rubbing gently at it, feeling the pucker loosen under his slow, careful movements before suddenly his finger slipped inside, right down to the second knuckle. Castiel was looser than he’d expected, and already wet inside.

Dean raised an eyebrow and Castiel caught his expression.

“I’m a familiar, Dean. I’m not human,” he said, as if that explained everything and it probably did.

“I just wasn’t expecting…” Dean said, trailing off.

“I want you, I’m ready for you,” Castiel said, soft and breathless. “ My body is ready for you.”

Dean nodded, uncertain if this was something familiars just did or if this was some strange trait that only Castiel possessed, but it didn’t matter because Castiel was lying there in his bed, wanting him, wet for him.

He slipped another finger into Castiel, scissoring them and spreading them, making sure Castiel was stretched wide enough to take his cock. The press of his fingers just seemed to make Castiel wetter. He bucked his hips, making soft, pleased sounds, and, just when Dean had three fingers in him, thrusting them deep, he suddenly moved, dislodging Dean’s fingers from inside him.

Castiel had moved to his hands and knees, pressing his ass up into the air, presenting himself and his spread, wet hole to Dean.

“Now,” he said. “I need you now, Dean.”

Dean had never seen a more appealing sight than Castiel on all fours begging for Dean to take him. He wrapped his hand around his straining cock, coating it with a mixture of lubricant and Castiel’s slick.

Carefully he knelt behind the other man, one hand on Castiel’s hip, the other still wrapped around his cock, guiding himself to gently press the head against Castiel’s spread hole. Slowly, carefully, he pushed inside, biting his lip because Castiel felt wonderful around him - tight and hot but so wet, so ready for Dean to slide into.

Dean buried himself deep inside Castiel, leaning over the familiar so he could press kisses to the back of Castiel’s neck, so his body completely covered Castiel. He paused there, letting himself get used to the feeling of being buried inside Castiel, letting Castiel get used to the feeling of Dean’s cock inside him.

They were joined together, physically connected, and it was better than anything Dean had ever felt before. He’d always found pleasure in sex, but this was different. They were joined together and it was better than anything Dean had ever felt before. It felt as if Castiel had  been made for him, made to take Dean’s cock. He shivered underneath Dean, rolling his hips in little circles, moaning softly, but there was no desire there to break the connection. Castiel was enjoying this moment just as much as Dean was, this second where they were as close together as they could physically be.

Dean placed both his hands on Castiel’s hips, steadying himself and the man below him, before he began to rock his own. He set a slow, lazy pace. He wasn’t chasing an orgasm or trying to get Castiel off as quickly as possible. He was trying to make this last, to keep them tied together like this for as long as he could.

Castiel clenched around him, trying to keep Dean’s cock inside even though Dean never pulled out fully, couldn’t bear to. He wanted to stay deep inside the warm welcoming heat of Castiel’s body.

Dean knew his  magic and Castiel’s were part of this union. He felt his own magic humming just under his skin, felt Castiel’s resonate throughout him.

Gone was the prickly feeling, the itch that had existed when Castiel wasn’t close enough, when Dean craved him but wouldn’t touch him, wouldn’t allow himself to believe that this could be real. Dean’s magic knew Castiel was the one for him and it reacted, turning the whole experience into something unreal, a melding of body and magic that had Dean seeing stars when he closed his eyes.

He kept thrusting, little thrusts that pushed him deeper into Castiel, until he felt Castiel stiffen underneath him. Then Castiel gasped, low and soft, and Castiel was coming. He clenched tight around Dean, so tight that Dean couldn’t hold off his own orgasm. Castiel pulled it from him, pulling Dean over the edge with him and they collapsed in a sweaty mess of tangled limbs on the bed, Dean still buried deep inside Castiel.

For a few moments all Dean could do was gasp for breath and lie still against Castiel, letting the aftershocks wash over him. It was intense, resonating through every part of him. He had never experienced sex like this, where he was so in tune with another person. Dean knew for certain - he wanted Castiel and Castiel only from now on.

Castiel turned his head, seeking lazily for a kiss and Dean nuzzled against him, wrapping his arms around Castiel and rolling them over onto their sides so they were spooned together and Castiel was away from the watch patch on the bed.

He kissed Castiel slowly, with none of the frantic desire from before, sated and happy and aware that this was just the beginning of their lives together. He fell asleep like that, cradling Castiel against him, listening to the rumble of contentment that resonated through Castiel and sounded like deep, satisfied purring.

 ****  


**

Dean woke up with a jolt and stared in confusion at the heavy weight which had settled on his torso and forced him awake. There was a small black cat  tucked into a ball, eyes closed, sleeping soundly on his chest.

For one disorientated moment Dean reached out into the space beside him, reaching for Castiel, before his fuzzy mind put the pieces together and he realized that the cat was Castiel.

“Cas,” he groaned, pushing himself up on his elbows and dislodging the little cat. “What are you doing?”

Castiel opened one eye and uncurled. Then he stuck his claws into Dean’s chest.

Dean hissed. “That’s not an answer.”

Castiel yawned, pawing at Dean’s chest, claws still unsheathed.

“I’m not going back to sleep like this, Cas. You were a human last night,” Dean said irritably. A thought occurred to him. “Is this your way of telling me you regret it? You can’t face me so now you’re a cat?”

The transformation was split-second. Dean didn’t have time to make sense out of what he was seeing before he was flat on his back in the bed, a naked and completely human Castiel straddling his chest.

“No!” Castiel said, leaning over him, hands on either side of Dean’s head. “No, that isn’t true. I could never regret that.”

He looked so distraught that Dean hated himself for even considering the idea.

“Okay,” he said, stroking his hands over Castiel’s thighs, trying to calm him down a little. “Why the cat form then?”

“I was tired and happy, it just happened. Sometimes changing is instinctive and as I said, I was happy,” Castiel said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“It’s gonna take a while to get used to you shifting back and forth,” Dean said. “At least I’m not sneezing yet.”

Castiel leant down and pressed a kiss to the tip of Dean’s nose. “You shouldn’t sneeze anymore, not after we consummated our bond.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He could think of a lot of ways to describe what they’d done together last night, but Castiel had picked the most unsexy way he’d heard in quite a while. Still, he was pretty happy to hear he didn’t have to worry about his allergies any more where Cas was concerned.

“I still can’t believe my familiar is a cat,” he said.

Castiel closed his eyes, a pleased smile stretching across his lips, and purred deep in his throat. Dean could feel the vibrations of the purr all the way through Castiel’s body. He stared at the man, amazed that sound could come out of him when he wasn’t transformed.

“Why are you purring, Cas?” he asked, tracing his fingers across the inside of Castiel’s thigh.

Castiel opened his eyes and looked at him with the same pleased, happy smile on his face.

“I like it when you say I’m yours,” he said.

Dean drew in a deep breath. He was completely out of his depth. Last night wasn’t just sex. It was a consummation, the same as if they’d got married. Castiel was his now, completely and unchangingly. It was a lot to take in, especially for a man who’d never wanted a serious relationship in his life.

Being  with Castiel was throwing himself in at the deep end, committing to a life long relationship, and yet Dean wasn’t scared. It felt right. Everything with Castiel felt right.

“I can say it again,” he offered.

“Please,” Castiel said, his eyes half-lidded.

His lips parted, inviting Dean to kiss them and Dean reached up, eager to deepen their bond.

His cell, discarded on the floor when it fell out of his hastily removed jeans the night before, burst to life at that moment, ringing loud and shrill.

Dean groaned.

“That’s Sam,” he said. “Fuck, I didn’t call him last night. He’s going to be freaking out.”

Castiel sighed, rolling off Dean and onto the bed, landing with a little bounce. Dean scrambled up, hunting around the floor for his phone, grabbing it on the third ring.

“Sam?”

“Dean?” Sam’s frantic voice floated out of the phone, sounding more panicked than Dean could ever remember him being before. “You’re okay? I thought you’d call, but you didn’t and I saw that there’d been a break in at the free clinic and the reporter said there’d been shots fired.…”

“Whoa, whoa, Sam. Calm down, I’m okay,” Dean said quickly, cutting across his brother before Sam could give himself a full blown panic attack. “Look, I’ll drop by the office in a few and I’ll tell you everything, but don’t worry. I’m fine.”

“Dean, did someone shoot at you?” Sam asked, his tone serious as if he was questioning a witness, not his own brother. Dean hated how he felt compelled to tell Sam the truth. It would have been so much easier to lie to him.

“Well, yeah, but it’s okay,” he said, cringing because he already knew Sam wouldn’t understand that.

“Dean!”

“Sam, I’m coming over. Stop worrying,” Dean said, hunting around the bedroom floor for his boxers. “Besides, I’ve got someone to introduce you to, so make sure Gabriel’s on his best behavior.”

“Dean? Who?” Sam sounded puzzled. “Dean, I don’t want to meet your hook ups. I want to know you’re okay.”

Dean couldn’t blame him. With everything that had been going on, he’d never got around to telling Sam about the strange cat familiar that had turned up in his office. Of course, now that Castiel was now lounging on his bed naked, Dean was glad of that. It would have been harder to explain how he and Castiel had gone from a frosty acquaintanceship to jumping into bed together. It was better to introduce him this way, as Dean’s familiar.

“You’ll see when I get there. Oh, and call Charlie and tell her to meet us there, okay? I’ve got something for her that’ll hopefully crack this case wide open.”

“Dean? Dean? Don’t you hang up, I swear to…”

Dean pressed ‘disconnect’. It was hard to talk to Sam on the phone. Face to face was always easier. Sam would be too distracted by Castiel to really press him too hard on the shooting last night, Charlie would work her magic on the memory stick, and Dean could just forget about his near brush with death.

He needed to focus on the case. That was the important thing now. The case and showing off Castiel to his friends and family.

Dean looked at Castiel who’d rolled over onto his front, stretched out and contented in the bed, naked in all his glory.

“Cas, you need to put some clothes on. I want you to make a good impression on Sam, but let's keep the nudity just between the two of us,” he said.

***

Sam was angry. He was always taller than Dean, but his anger seemed to make him grow until he was towering over Dean; his eyes dark, his hair wild and unkempt. He looked like he’d slept in his clothes and Dean hated how guilty he felt because of that. He hadn’t meant to forget the phone call. He hadn’t meant to leave Sam worrying all night.

“You couldn’t even remember to call me, you blow it off as if being shot at was nothing and then you hang up on me. What is wrong with you, Dean?

Out of the corner of his eye Dean saw Castiel flinch and back closer to the door. This wasn’t how he’d wanted Castiel’s first meeting with Sam to go. He hadn’t wanted Castiel to be faced with Sam’s anger.

“What were you thinking, Dean?” Sam demanded.

Dean swallowed. He knew his behaviour over the last few hours must seem erratic to Sam, but Dean’s whole life had been changed and he was still trying to make sense of it. He hadn’t planned to ignore Sam, to worry him or exclude him, but that didn’t make the idea of Sam waiting up all night by the phone, watching reports on TV and worrying about him any better.

“Sam, come on, sit down,” Gabriel said nervously, reaching out to grab hold of Sam’s hand. He pulled him away from Dean, towards the nearest chair. “I’m sure Dean’s got an explanation.”

“No, what he did was irresponsible,” Sam said, and then his face crumpled. “And I was so worried.”

“I know, I know,” Gabriel shushed him. “But you haven’t slept and Dean’s safe. Come on, sit down. I’ll get you a coffee.”

Dean marvelled at how good Gabriel was at calming Sam down. He didn’t associate Gabriel with quiet moments like this, soft hushed tones and kind words, but Gabriel’s concern was genuine. He looked almost as tired as Sam did, but all of his attention was direct towards Sam, to making sure he was okay.

Sam drew in a deep breath. “No, I don’t want any coffee. I just...what happened last night?”

Gabriel turned to look at Dean, one eyebrow raised. Dean guessed this was as good a time as any to explain the startling turn his life had taken in the last day. Sam was calmer now, ready to listen.

He reached out for Castiel’s hand, entwining their fingers and pulled Castiel forward until they were standing next to each other. The closeness of Castiel was comforting, the weight and warmth of his hand held in Dean’s was grounding. With Castiel at his side, Dean felt he could do anything.

“This is Castiel. Sam, he’s my familiar.”

Saying the words out loud rather than simply thinking them was strange for Dean, but Castiel squeezed his hand and the truth of those words was undeniable.

“Your familiar?” Sam asked. He peered at Castiel. “But Dean’s magic is...it’s dark magic, why would a familiar want to align themselves with that?”

Hearing Sam say it now brought back the arguments Dean had witness as a teenager; his father and Sam yelling at each other, Sam disgusted with the powers he had, John trying first to coax and then to force Sam to use them.

Sam had never been comfortable with the fact that Dean had embraced his magic, but they’d come to an uneasy truce about it. Sam could at least see that it was useful sometimes, but Dean didn’t blame him for being concerned about Dean gaining a familiar. Dean hadn’t been keen on the idea either, at first.

“Your brother’s magic is not the only thing I considered when choosing him,” Castiel said quietly. “Dean is a good person, with a good heart. He has never hurt another with his magic, he has never made them pay the price for it’s usage. He has always taken that sacrifice upon himself and now I will bear the burden for him.”

Sam nodded, although he still looked far from convinced.

“Wait,” Gabriel interrupted. “I’m lost. What’s a familiar? Why does it matter what kind of magic Dean does and what do you mean dark magic? Like Voldemort dark?”

Sam sighed. “No, it’s more complicated than that. Dean’s magic, our magic, requires a sacrifice to work - body parts, blood, something from living, breathing person. I’ve never been comfortable with the idea of it, and Dean’s only ever used his own body to perform the ceremony, but other magic users aren’t so ethical.”

Gabriel’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, oh. Like virgin sacrifices?”

“They don’t have to be virgins,” Dean said. “But yeah, unwilling victims. It hurts, performing our kind of magic. I drain my energy dry, but if I used someone else, hurt them instead, I wouldn’t feel a thing.I could do a lot more powerful spells if I used someone else as a sacrifice.”

“And now he’s using you instead?” Gabriel asked, point at Castiel.

“Only my magic,” Castiel said. “I am not human, so it’s not the same, but yes, he’s using me as the source of his sacrifices. It doesn’t hurt me and I am willing.”

“No offense, but that’s kind of sick,” Gabriel said.

“I don’t expect other people to understand the bond Dean and I have, or what I’ve chosen to give to him. I know Dean is extraordinary and I want to help him,” Castiel said with a small shrug of his shoulders.

Dean could feel his cheeks heating up, a blush creeping up the back of his neck.

  
“Tone it down a bit, Cas. Seriously, it’s okay, you don’t need to convince Gabriel,” he muttered.

Sam cleared his throat, every bit as embarrassed by Castiel’s earnestness as Dean was.

“So, Castiel, what sort of animal form do you have?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.

“He can turn into an animal too?” Gabriel asked, completely forgetting his disgust from a moment before in light of this new discovery.

“I’m a cat,” Castiel said.

For a moment there was silence, then both Gabriel and Sam burst out laughing. Dean couldn’t blame them. For a half of yesterday he’d laughed at the fact Castiel was a cat familiar too. It had seemed completely absurd to him that out of all the animals in the world Castiel could have been associated with, that had to be the one.

“No, but seriously,” Gabriel said, trying to compose a straight face. “What are you?”

Castiel looked puzzled.

“I’m a cat,” he said again.

“I don’t think they’re gonna believe you, Cas, not unless you show them,” Dean said.

Castiel carefully slipped his hand free from Dean’s. The transformation, as always, was over in the blink of an eye. One moment Cas was standing there, looking as human as anyone else in the room and the next second a black cat stood there, gazing up at them with wide unfathomable blue eyes.

“Meow,” Castiel said, settling himself down, paws tucked neatly together, a smug expression on his little pointed face.

“He can really turn into a cat. He can really do it! He just turned into a cat!” Gabriel pointed at the cat on the floor, the words bubbling out of him.

He’d been just the same the first time he’d seen Dean do magic, so excited, so unable to believe what was right in front of his eyes. That was years ago now, but Dean was glad Gabriel hadn’t become jaded. He must have looked at every magical client who walked through his door with the same wonderment, the same delight. Gabriel had never known this growing up, it was still knew to him and he still reacted like a little boy being shown a trick for the first time.

“Isn’t that a problem, him being a cat?” Sam asked.

“Nah. I mean, it was at first. He made me sneeze all the damn time, but our bond seems to handle all the problems with allergies.”

“He’s just so cute,” Gabriel said, scooping Castiel up into his arms, ignoring Castiel distressed ‘merp’.

“Gabriel, he’s not a cat. He’s a person. Don’t lug him around like he’s your pet,” Dean said irritably.

“But he’s adorable. He turns into a cat,” Gabriel said, tickling Castiel under the chin.

To Dean’s complete disgust, Castiel closed his eyes and began to purr.

“See?” Gabriel said triumphantly. “He likes me.”

Sam smiled indulgently, but then his focus shifted back to Dean and the smile slipped from his lips.

“We aren’t finished yet, Dean. You still haven’t told me about last night.”

Dean sighed. He’d hoped that Castiel would have been a big enough distraction, or that Sam would understand why Dean hadn’t call him after meeting Castiel, but it seemed that wasn’t going to be the case.

He dug the memory stick out of his pocket and tossed it across to Sam who caught it awkwardly.

“I found this. It was hidden in the dead guy’s office. I’m pretty sure whatever got him killed is on that. There were two guys looking for it too. I didn’t get a look at them, but apparently they were still there when we got out. They took a couple of shots at me and Cas, but we’re fine.”

Sam looked down at the memory stick, then up at Dean.

“You took Cas with you?” he asked.

“No, Cas followed me,” Dean said, frowning in annoyance. “I’d never drag him along somewhere I knew was going to be dangerous.”

Sam nodded slowly. He was piecing things together, Dean could see, working it all out like some intricate puzzle. He didn’t have all the pieces, but Sam was smart. He could tell what was missing, what Dean had left mostly unsaid.

“You and Cas? It’s serious isn’t it?”

He looked up at Dean, waiting for his brother to confirm it.

“Happens a lot with witches and familiars apparently,” Dean said nonchalantly with a small shrug of his shoulders, trying to play it off as if it was no big deal that he’d suddenly found himself in a committed lifelong relationship with a man he’d only known a day.

Sam glanced towards Gabriel and Castiel, checking they were too involved in their petting session to pay attention to what he was saying, before leaning forward and lowering his voice.

“And you’re okay with that?” he asked.

Dean smiled.

“Yeah, I’m more than okay with that. It just feels right, Sam. It’s like whatever else is going on, having Cas right beside me is what I need.”

Sam still looked concerned.

Dean wished Sam could understand how he felt, how the connection was profound and deep and made sense to him in a way nothing else ever had. It probably sounded crazy to Sam. Hell, it sounded crazy to Dean.

“Just be careful, okay?” Sam said softly. “I don’t want you getting hurt because of this.”

Dean nodded.

He couldn’t explain their bond to Sam. Sam might have read books about familiars and the bonds they shared with witches but that didn’t mean Sam really understood it. Unless someone felt it, the intensity of it, they couldn’t understand it.  

He knew that Castiel would never do anything to hurt him, that Castiel would put himself in harm's way before he let anything bad happen to Dean.

Dean felt exactly the same way, and he certainly couldn’t tell Sam that last night he’d proved it by using his own body to shield Cas when they were being shot at. Sam was better off not knowing every detail of what happened the night before. What he didn’t know couldn’t worry him.

“I want a cat,” Gabriel announced then, oblivious to the serious discussion between the two brothers. “I’d name him Mr Snuggles.”

“We are not getting a cat,” Sam said.

Dean was about to laugh, but he stopped himself quickly, replaying Sam’s words over in his head.

“What do you mean ‘we’?” he asked.

Gabriel looked at Sam. Sam looked at Gabriel. The guilt on both their faces was bright and obvious, shining like a beacon.

“You’re the one who told him,” Gabriel said quickly. “I didn’t say a thing.”

“How long has there been a ‘we’?” Dean demanded.

He wondered how he could have missed it, how he couldn’t have seen it just a few moments ago in Gabriel’s gentle words and gestures when he’d been calming Sam down. He’d thought Gabriel looked tired, but it had never crossed his mind to consider that Gabriel had been up with Sam all night, watching him worry about Dean, being there for him as a boyfriend as well as his partner at Law. They’d become something more and they’d never told him.

“Dean, this really isn’t the time or the place,” Sam said hurriedly.

“How long?” Dean said again.

“A while,” Sam admitted, squirming in his seat.

“Since Law school,” Gabriel supplied helpfully, ignoring the glare Sam directed at him. “But it didn’t get serious until a few months ago. We were trying to find the right time to tell you.”

Dean pointed a finger firmly at Sam.

“You are never allowed to lecture me about my choices again,” he said.

**

The office door banged open loudly and Charlie positively skipped into the room, laptop bag slung over her shoulder. She looked around expectantly, the radiant smile on her face faltering a little as she scanned over the collective.

“Oh. I thought that fairy girl was going to be here,” she said. “I really wanted to meet her.”

“This is a law firm, not a dating agency,” Sam said with a small grimace. “Please don’t hit on our clients.”

Charlie rolled her eyes, dropping her laptop bag onto the nearest desk. She looked back at them, finally registering the black cat lying in Gabriel’s arms.

“Did you guys get a cat?”

“What? This guy? Nah, he belongs to Dean,” Gabriel said, a grin stretched across his face.

The cat agreed with a loud, happy purr.

“Yeah, I’m not falling for that. Dean’s allergies,” Charlie said, shaking her head.

“You’d better explain, Dean,” Sam said. “And take Cas back from Gabriel before Gabriel decides to adopt him.”

“I really want a pet,” Gabriel said with a sigh. “Plus he could turn into a man whenever my landlord came over and then I wouldn’t get into any trouble.”

Charlie’s eyes widened.

“Turn into a man? Oh my god, Dean, is he a familiar? Do you have a familiar?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, a strange mixture of pride and apprehension swirling in his stomach.

He wanted Charlie to be impressed. He wanted her to like Castiel. After Sam’s reaction, he really needed her to be happy about this. After Sam, she was the person whose opinion mattered the most to him.

“You lucky bastard,” Charlie said, punching him in the arm, her smile wide and real. “I can’t believe you have a familiar. You won the lottery, Dean! Is he cute? I mean, he’s a cute cat, but is he cute when he’s human too? What’s his name? How’s your bond? Consummated?”

Dean knew he was blushing. He’d wanted her to be happy, but that hadn’t meant he was ready to get into a detailed discussion about his sex life, at least not with Sam and Gabriel in the room too.

“His name is Castiel. Yeah, he’s pretty cute and our bond is good. Definitely consummated,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck and looking at Charlie’s feet, not her face.

Castiel squirmed his way out of Gabriel’s arms, landing gracefully on his feet. He padded across to Dean and wound his way around his legs, tail up like a little flag, purring fit to burst.

“He really seems to like you,” Charlie said, crouching down to get a closer look at Castiel.

Dean groaned. It was so weird to be having this conversation while Castiel was twirling about his ankles in his cat form. Castiel had spent more time around Dean’s family and friends as a cat than he had as a person. Charlie hadn’t even see what he looked like when he was human, but they were still discussing bonds and consummation and Dean was starting to get distinctly uncomfortable.

“Come on, Charlie. You came here to work. Gotta find some evidence to help the hot fairy, remember?”

“You’re such a grump, Dean,” Charlie said, scooping Castiel up into her arms. “He’s not normally like this when he’s got laid.”

“Put Cas down,” Dean said irritably.

“No, he’s awesome. He’s gonna come be my work buddy,” Charlie said.

She carried Cas across to the desk and carefully deposited him on it. While she busied herself setting up her laptop, Cas took a moment to start delicately washing his leg. Dean stared at him. He knew Castiel as a person, knew him intimately, and yet there he was calmly washing himself as if he had never been in a human being in his life and had no idea about social spaces and what was acceptable in public and what wasn’t.

Once Charlie was settled  she held out her hand.“I hear you’ve got something for me,” she said, looking between the three men expectantly.

Sam handed her the memory stick. Charlie looked it over, a little frown tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Right, well, let’s hope there’s no nasty viruses on this thing,” she said, sticking it in the USB drive.

Castiel stretched, having finished his wash and sauntered across to Charlie. He draped himself across the table, along the length of the back of the laptop so it was pressed to his stomach and closed his eyes, a blissful expression stretched across his little face.

“I think he likes you better than me,” Dean said, unable hide the jealousy in his voice.

Castiel was supposed to be his familiar, but he seemed to have no problem with being picked up and cuddled by complete strangers. Dean wouldn’t have prefered it if Cas had hissed or scratched, but he would have been fine if Cas had at least affected an air of cold aloofness to anyone who wasn’t Dean, just like a normal cat might have done.

“Nah, he just likes that the laptop is warm,” Charlie said, reaching out to skritch Castiel under the chin.

Castiel lazily opened one eye and ‘murr-murred’ his agreement.

Charlie smiled at him before returning to her mission.

“Oh, cute, an encrypted password,” she said. “Yeah, like that’s really going to keep a techno-witch out.”

She waved her hand across the screen and the password box melted away, the files opening to  her magic. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she typed, staring at the screen. Code and data flashed up, then vanished. Dean had no idea what he was looking at, but Charlie did and that was what was important.

It was only in the last a hundred and fifty years that witches like Charlie had really come into their element. Before humanity had learned how to harness electricity, techno-witches like Charlie, who used electricity to power their magic, had been assumed to be powerless unless a lightening storm happened to hit close to them, in which case they lit up like a power grid.

“Okay, this is odd. It’s patient files,” Charlie said. “I mean, I can see why he’d password protect them, but not hide them. That’s right, isn’t it? You found this hidden in the doctor’s office?”

“Yeah, in a panel in the ceiling,” Dean said.

“Okay, right, so there must be something special about these files,” Charlie said, biting her bottom lip, squinting at the screen in concentration.

Again the files flashed up on the screen in rapid succession, words flashing here and there as she searched for a connection.

“Uh, this isn’t good,” she muttered. “I think all the patient files are magic users.”

“Right, so we’ve got a guy hiding patient files relating to magic users,” Dean said, not sure where that took them.

Charlie had already pulled an FBI database and he was pretty sure Charlie had hacked into,  because he couldn’t see how she would ever have been granted clearance.

Names flashed up on the screen along with pictures. They came and went so quickly that Dean only got the blurriest glimpse at them before they were gone again, but Charlie was gathering all she needed. She absorbed the information, drawing it in from the computer. She was like a human processor. Dean would never have been able to do what she did in a million years and he was transfixed watching her work.

Then, just as quickly as she’d started, Charlie stopped, her hands resting still on the keys, staring at the screen.

“This is bad,” she said. “This is really bad.”

“What is it?” Sam asked. “Is it about Gilda?”

“Huh? No, I don’t think so. I mean, she might be in danger, but this…”

“Charlie, what is it?” Dean asked.

“The patients, all the magic users, half of them are missing. I cross-referenced them with the FBI missing persons database. The FBI keeps a track of magic users who are reported as missing. They say it’s a safety precaution, but it’s an Orwellian tactic to try to keep track of us. They’re worried about radicals with magic powers.”

“Going off track, Charlie. Missing people, remember?” Dean said, trying to coax her back to the subject in hand.

“Oh, right,” Charlie said. “Well, they’re missing and in too high a number for it to be a coincidence. We’re not talking about a few people, we’re talking fifty or sixty from the same clinic, from these files.”

“What kind of magic users?” Dean asked.

“Witches, fairies, vampires, werewolves. Practically anyone who could be classed as being a member of the magical community.”

Dean licked his lips. His mouth felt suddenly dry.

He was used to suspicion and mistrust. Some people didn’t like the fact that magic users existed. He’d had slurs shouted at him, even faced a few threats of physical violence from people who didn’t like that he was a witch, but he’d never seen anything so targeted.“I think the doctor was selling his patient files to those guys I overheard at the clinic. Then those guys were using the information to pick off magic users.”

“He was a doctor!” Gabriel said. “He was supposed to help people!”

“What? Doctors can’t have prejudices?” Charlie asked. “I think Dean’s right. I think he was selling off a hit list. Some of these missing persons reports make it clear these people were taken by force.”

“But why did they kill him now if that’s the case?” Gabriel asked. “What happened?”

“Maybe he had a change of heart and wouldn’t help anymore?” Sam suggested.

“Or he just asked for more money and that was why he got shot,” Dean said bitterly.

He wasn’t willing to give the dead doctor the benefit of the doubt. If he had had a change of heart, it had only come after he’d already violated his patient’s privacy and safety, and sent half of them off to what was likely an untimely death.

“We can still save the other magic users,” Gabriel said. “I mean, those men don’t have access to their files now you got the data stick. And we can hand this information over to the police, get them arrested.”

“Who I overheard when I was breaking and entering? That I don’t have a description of? They’ll lock me up first before they ever bother following up this lead. It would be easy to say I did it.” Dean said angrily.

Gabriel didn’t understand. The police would have listened to Gabriel, but they wouldn’t listen to Dean, he was a magic user and would be treated with suspicion first. They’d care more about the laws that he’d broken than the evidence he’d found.

Dean and Charlie had set up their agency so that magic users would have somewhere to go when things went wrong, were they’d have someone who’d listen and wouldn’t judge. They could be trusted.The police, who worked primarily for the non-magic population, were another matter. Suspicion went both ways. Dean knew exactly how the police reacted to crimes involving magic-users. He’d seen them do the bare minimum to try and solve his mother's murder. He’d heard their theories, heard them dismiss her murder as in-fighting in the magical community. Once they’d decided her killer had to be a witch, they never bothered to look further.

“No, Dean,” Gabriel said, looking alarmed. “I know someone from the force. He’d help us.”

“Sure he would,” Dean said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  “The police and the FBI have had this information about missing magic users, but I don’t see them doing anything with it. There’ve  been no warnings, no suggestion that magic users should take extra care. Maybe they haven’t put the pieces together, but maybe they just don’t care to know. Maybe they’re only interested in missing magic users when they suspect they’re criminals”

Dean didn’t know what was true, but he did know he was angry that these people had disappeared and nothing seemed to have been done about it.

“I’m going back to the clinic,” he said. “I need to find out who those guys were. Maybe they left something behind or the doctor hid something else.”

Castiel rolled off the table, landing neatly on all fours and trotted after him.

“Oh, you’re coming too, are you?” Dean asked, only partly joking. He hadn’t thought Castiel was listening, in fact he’d thought Castiel had fallen asleep. “No cats in the car, Cas, so you’ll have to change before we get there.”

“Dean!” Sam called after him, but Dean shut the door, he already knew what Sam would say. He didn’t want to hear it.

**

The drive over to the clinic had been filled with the ringing of Dean’s phone. He knew Sam was calling him but let it go to voicemail. Sam had  made a conscious choice not to use his magic, to live a normal life. Normally, that didn’t bother Dean. He wanted Sam to be happy but right now it bothered him that his brother had turned his back on their heritage

It bothered Dean too to think that he hadn’t known about these missing magic users himself. People had been snatched off the streets and Dean hadn’t heard anything about it. Was he even a real part of the magic community? They could have come to him. He would have looked for those missing people, would have pounded the streets, chased every lead, but he hadn’t known and he didn’t know why.

Castiel sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring out the window. As they drew into the clinic parking lot though, he shivered.

“I don’t like being back here,” he said quietly.

There was more police tape, Dean noticed. Someone had been here after the shooting, but they’d gone again.

“Me neither, Cas,” he said.

“Dean, are you sure we can find something here?” Castiel asked. “I mean, is this a good idea? Sam doesn’t seem to think it is.”

The mention of Sam made Dean grit his teeth. He parked the car and yanked the keys free, turning to face Castiel.

“What else am I supposed to do, Cas? You got any bright ideas?” he snapped.

Castiel shook his head.

“Dean, I’m not criticizing you,” he said softly.

“Really? ‘Cause it sounds like you are,” Dean said.

“I am trying to help,” Castiel said.

He sounded so reasonable that Dean couldn’t stand it. He wanted him to be angry, just like Dean was. Wasn’t that they way their bond worked? Weren’t they supposed to feel the same? Wasn’t Cas supposed to be his? Why didn’t Castiel seem to understand him?

He’d told Castiel about his mother’s murder. He’d let Castiel into the most painful part of his family history. Castiel should understand why this was important, should see the similarities that Dean did. He should understand Dean’s pain.  

But he didn't have family, not the way Dean did. He didn't have a mother or a father to lose. He was unreal, a being made of magic, how could he understand things like death when he was something timeless?

The more Dean thought about it, the angrier he felt. He had known it was too good to be true, but he’d still allowed himself to get swept up in Castiel’s promises, in his sweet words, and now in the harsh light of day it was Dean who regretted letting his guard down and believing in their bond, that Castiel would understand.

He should have known nothing good ever happened to him.

“This whole bond thing is a joke,” he said angrily. “You keep telling me you know me, but you don’t know shit. Just stay in the car, I don’t want you with me.”He got out of the car and slammed the door behind him, storming away.

As he reached the front door of the clinic, he glanced back over his shoulder to see if Castiel was watching him. He wanted  wanted to see that Castiel cared, but all he saw was a little black cat sitting in the front seat of the car, defying what Dean had told him about no cats in the car.

Castiel was sulking then.That was fine by Dean.

Dean ducked under the new police tape, pushing the door open with a quick shove of magic. It was easier to use now, only made his fingers ache a little. He was too angry to bother using his lock picks. Dean wasn’t in the mood to take his time over anything.

Castiel had just made it sound easy, but then he’d shown that there was no such thing as perfect. They were supposed to be a team, Castiel should have been on his side, should have agreed with him.

Too much time had already been wasted. Some of those missing people could still be alive. Dean might be able to help them. He didn’t need Castiel dragging him back, hanging around his neck like a millstone.

He headed towards the doctor’s office, muttering under his breath, muttering about Sam and Cas, and his anger seemed to be all consuming.

He should have been able to do more. His father had always told Dean that his job was to protect people and Castiel, at the end of it, was a tool that should have helped Dean protect more people. He shouldn’t be a tool that was sitting in Dean’s car, sulking.

Dean’s hand was on the door handle when he heard the sound of breaking glass. The same instinct that had controlled him the night before controlled him now, turning him around. He ran back to the car, his heart beating painfully hard in his chest.

Castiel was in danger. He knew it in his bones, in his blood, in every inch of him. Castiel was in danger and their bond was working, was real and was calling to him, telling him to get back to Castiel before it was too late.

There passanger side window was broken. Glass littered the parking lot.

Castiel was gone.

“Castiel?” Dean shouted, hoping he was hiding, flitting about like a shadow under the car or somewhere else. Hoping that he was safe.

There was a squeal of tires. Dean turned in time to see a big black car, some kind of SUV, heading down the street. And he already knew Castiel was inside it.

Even though he couldn’t outrun the vehicle he took off after it. The logical part of his mind wasn’t in control now. He had to get to Castiel, had to get to his familiar. He should never have left Castiel alone, should never have put him in danger like that.

Dean felt the spell rising in him before the words were even on his lips. The pain was intense, burning through him white hot. He screamed out the words, a fireball erupting from his fingertips. It was magic Dean had never attempted before, magic he never would have believed he was capable of. The kind of magic that had burned through his dad and destroyed him.

Dean dropped to his knees, the weight of the spell making him crumple.

He watched the fireball in horror as it hit the car and then disintegrated into nothing. It left no burns, nothing to show Dean had even cast it. The car must have been warded,it was the only way Dean could explain what he had just seen because he had felt that fireball leave him, had felt his anger burn bright in that ball. It should have done something. It shouldn’t have just disappeared.

Dean tried to force himself to his feet, but he couldn’t. He muttered, trying to work another spell, trying anything, but he had nothing left to give, no energy to feed from. The other spell had drained him and now he couldn’t do a thing to save Castiel.

As the car sped away, Dean stared at the licence plate, repeating it over and over to himself, trying to commit it to memory.

It was all he could do.

**

Castiel didn’t want to open his eyes. He wanted to stay in the darkness of unconsciousness, unaware of the world around him, but he couldn’t. There was too much noise. People talking, the sound of doors slamming, chains clinking, forced him awake and slowly he opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings.

He was in a  metal cage that was just large enough for him, but only if he sat or crouched. The bars were too close together for him to escape, even if he transformed.

He wasn’t alone. There were rows and rows of these cages, all filled with people. The missing magic users that Dean was searching for. From what Castiel could see they were alive, but most of them were bloodied, bruised, some with injuries that required a doctor. It looked as if they were being tortured. He saw one man hunched over himself, his wings torn and tattered.

Castiel curled into a ball, wishing that he was somewhere else. More than anything he wished he was with Dean and safe. Without Dean he might be brimming with power, but there was no way he could use it, not now he’d given himself over to their bond. He was as good as powerless without Dean.

It wasn’t just about power though, Dean was Castiel’s witch, and without him, Castiel felt wrong. His nerves were on edge, his whole body feeling as if he was being pricked by pins. Castiel needed Dean. Even if they’d been trapped here together, Castiel would have been better for having Dean beside him.

Now he didn’t know if he’d even see Dean again.

Castiel felt a wave of nausea wash over him at the thought. He loved Dean. He couldn’t live like this, separated from him. Once a familiar formed a bond, they stayed with their witch until the end. Separation wasn’t something Castiel could deal with. Whatever torture his kidnappers were planning, Castiel already knew it could never be as bad as being separated from Dean.

Castiel heard footsteps outside his cage, but he kept his head down. He didn’t want to look at anyone, didn’t want to know what was coming.

“What should we do with this one?” It was one of the voices he’d heard in the doctor’s office when he’d been hiding with Dean. It was the voice of the man who’d killed the doctor.

Castiel uncurled just a little, peeking at the two men standing next to his cage. One was tall and thin, with a beard and a wicked glint in his eye. The other one was shorter, fatter, older. He wore a tailored suit.

“I thought he’d make a good fighter. He’s powerful. All familiars are,” the first one said.

“Not when bonded, Azazel,” the second one said “A bonded familiar is useless”.

“Fine,” Azazel, the first man, said. “We’ll use him for bait then. He can get our fighters riled up before the match.”

“I’m not wasting him as a bait boy. I let you ruin our last fairy that way” the second man said, gesturing to Castiel. “Look at him, Azazel, he’s beautiful.”

“You would say that, Crowley, you’ve always been more interested in their physical attributes than what they could do in the ring.”

“Fighting makes us money. Selling pretty creatures makes us money. I’m a businessman,” Crowley said.

“Still,” Azazel said stiffly. “I don’t see what’s special about him.”

Crowley smiled. It was not a nice smile.

He placed his hand on the top of the cage.

Castiel tried to shrink away. He saw the mark on Crowley’s palm, one he’d hoped to never see. It was the mark of a magic user who’d made a pact with the damned. This man had sold his soul for his powers. His was truly black magic and it would be powerful.

“Please,” he whispered, but the man was listening to him.

Pain shot through Castiel’s body. He screamed.

Castiel knew transformation should be painless, seamless. It should be sudden and complete, all of his body folding from one existence to another but this was all wrong. His ears were changing, growing out of his head, and his tail was growing, painfully constricted by the clothes he was wearing, but nothing else was changing. It was agony, the pain of an incomplete transformation robbing him of breath, making him lightheaded, unable to even express how much he hurt.

When the man removed his hand from the top of the cage Castiel collapsed, gasping for breath.

“There,” Crowley said. “Now we’ll sell him fetishists. He’s got ears and a tail. He’ll be snapped up in no time.”

“I don’t see a tail,” Azazel muttered.

“It’s hidden by his trousers,” Crowley said, rolling his eyes. He snapped his fingers at another man who was standing nearby, apparently waiting for instruction. “Get rid of those clothes. Put him something short. He’ll make us a lot of money once our next auction comes around.”

The man nodded.

“And don’t let Azazel near him. I’m not letting this one be ruined by his fighters. If he wants to see blood, let him play with that fairy.”

“You don’t understand how nice it is when they cry,” Azazel said.

Castiel curled back into a ball, willing himself not to throw up. He heard the clink of keys and shuddered. He didn’t want anyone to touch him; they were monsters. Monsters who were willing to sell him to the highest bidder.

He closed his eyes as a hand grabbed hold of him. He tried to think about being somewhere safe, but the only memories he could conjure were the last ones he had of Dean.  Of them fighting, that anger, of when Dean had told him that their bond was joke, that Castiel didn’t understand a thing about him.

Would Dean even look for him? Dean had tried so hard to refuse their bond, to make Castiel leave. Maybe he’d be happy that Castiel was gone. It meant he’d no longer have Castiel following him like a shadow.  Dean hadn’t wanted that.

Dean had told him again and again to go away and Castiel hadn’t listened. He’d been so sure he was right, that Dean would understand when he felt their bond, when he allowed it to deepen. It had been what Castiel wanted, to be devoted to Dean and their life together.  Now, when he thought about Dean’s anger, his words that had rung with such venom, he knew he’d been wrong.

By the Castiel was hauled out of his cage, he had convinced himself that Dean would be better off without him.

**

Dean sat huddled at the side of the road. He didn’t think he’d ever hurt himself like this, not even when he was young and his dad had been coaxing him on, pushing him to try harder and more intense spells. He’d used his emotions to channel the spell. He should have known how bad that would be. Dean supposed he was lucky, the fireball of anger he had produced had only left him a useless husk.  It had killed John Winchester.

A small, bright green car sped around the corner and juddered to a stop just feet away from him. Charlie jumped out, followed by Sam and Gabriel.

“Dean!” Charlie called.

“What happened? Where’s Cas?” Sam asked, pushing past Charlie to get to his brother, crouching at Dean’s side.

“I burned out, Sam. I couldn’t save him. I tried,I really tried. I made a fireball, but they took him, Sam! They took him!”

“You made a fireball? Dean, you could have been killed!”

“I didn’t... I wasn’t thinking. I was so angry and it just came out. I can’t do it anymore, Sam. I can’t do magic. Cas is gone and I’ve burnt myself out. What am I going to do? How do I get him back?”

Dean buried his head in his hands. Castiel was gone. He could be dead even now. Dean had known how dangerous the men he’d been tracking were. He’d known and he’d still left Castiel alone in the car. He hadn’t even thought about Castiel’s safety.

Sam turned away quickly, gesturing to Gabriel. “Gabriel, I need you to find the nearest fast food place. Just get anything on the menu. Dean needs to eat. He needs energy and that’s the quickest way I know.”

Gabriel took off, running faster than Dean had ever seen him move in his life. It would have been funny, seeing him running in his suit and tie, looking for the nearest fast food joint, if everything else wasn’t so terrible.

“It’s not going to help,” Dean said miserably.

“You don’t know that,” Sam said, placing a gentle, placating hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean looked up at him, his eyes bloodshot. “What if he’s dead, Sam?”

“You’d know,” Sam said carefully. “You’d feel it.”

“I told you, Sam! I can’t do magic, I can’t…”

“Your bond, Dean, you’d feel that. If Cas was dead, you’d feel it. The fact that you’re sitting here in the street, cursing the world, it means he’s still alive. If he wasn’t, you’d be catatonic.”

Dean looked up in bewilderment at Sam, and then at Charlie behind him who was nodding.

“So that fact that I feel like I’m about to hurl is a good thing?” he asked.

“Once a bond is formed, any kind of separation is physically painful,” Charlie said. She sat down on the roadside next to Dean and leaned against him, wrapping her arm around his waist. “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m so sorry.”

“But Cas is alive?” Dean asked.

He didn’t care if his magic was gone. He didn’t care if he was riddled with pain. He’d embrace the pain if it meant that Castiel was surviving somewhere until Dean could find him.

“I know the license plate of the car that took him. Charlie, I need you to find out who owns that car,” he said, forgetting his misery. There was a ray of hope, a chance, and Dean planned to grab it with both hands. He needed Castiel.

Charlie and Sam exchanged worried glances over the top of his head.

“Dean, your body has been through a lot. You should rest, eat something,” Charlie said slowly.

“You know about magic bonds. Do you really think I’m going to sit around while my familiar, my Castiel, is out there somewhere?”

Charlie shook her head. “No, I don’t, but it was worth a try.”

Sam sighed, but he squeezed Dean’s shoulder, the gesture reassuring. “Can we go back to the office at least?” he asked. “Charlie can search for the car there and you can eat something, and I want you to hear Gabriel out this time. If you really want to help Castiel, then Gabriel knows a guy.”

“Sam, I’m willing to listen to anything if it will help Castiel”

Sam smiled at him. Then he dug in his pocket quickly, pulling out his phone. “I should find out where Gabriel is so we can pick him up on the way” he said.

**

The man in the middle of the offices of Winchester and Tricksler stood up straight, in a perfectly starched and pressed uniform. His shoes were shined, his hair was neat. Nothing about him was out of place. He looked too good to be believed.

Dean, lounging in a chair, wracked with spasms of pain and munching his way through a burger at Sam’s insistence, felt inadequate next to him.

“So, you’re a witch?” he asked.

“Yes,” the man confirmed.

“And a policeman?”

“Yes,” the man agreed with a nod of his head. “I am also a policeman.”

“No, offense, but why would a witch even want to be a policeman?” Dean asked.

The man smiled softly. “I believe in the system. I wish to change it for the better. If there is a witch on the force, then we may have a better chance of solving crimes involving magic users. You know yourself that our community can be insular. We have suffered many prejudices and we do not forgive easily. I hope I can change the perception of the police force, or at least give our community one policeman they feel they can trust.”

“That’s a pretty speech. Did you rehearse it?” Dean asked sarcastically.

“Dean,” Sam snapped.

“It’s fine,” Michael said. “I expect resistance and distrust.”

“You sound like a robot,” Dean said, angrily biting into his burger.

“Gabriel mentioned you had some information for me,” Michael said, ignoring Dean’s snide remark.

“Yes, it relates to a murder and a group of local disappearances,” Sam said.

“And I assume I do not want to ask how you came upon this evidence?” Michael asked, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile.

“Probably best not to,” Gabriel agreed. “But now we concerned citizens are turning it over to you.”

“And I understand your familiar has been taken?” Michael asked, directing his question to Dean.

“No, I’m normally this charming,” Dean snarled between gritted teeth, another painful spasm taking hold of him at the reminder.

“Dean…” Sam said again, warningly.

“I understand. The pain your brother feels is impossible to ignore. I don’t blame him for being sharp with me.”

“He’s like this a lot. I wouldn’t expect him to warm up to you once we get Cas back,” Gabriel said.

Dean said nothing. He didn’t like Gabriel’s  conviction that they would find Castiel with the help of some witch with a badge.  He wanted to believe they would. It was the only thing he wanted, but Gabriel hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen the fireball Dean conjured. He hadn’t seen how it turned to nothing once it hit the car, deflected by a spell stronger than Dean’s anger.

A powerful magic user was involved in this.Dean didn’t know how Michael was supposed to make it better and it  bothered him that Gabriel showed so much faith in the man and his abilities.

Charlie had been quiet so far, tapping away at her laptop in the corner. Dean knew she distrusted the strange policeman as much as he did. Tracing the licence could be a dead end; it was more than likely stolen, but they still had to try. Now though, she paused, looking up at Michael.

“Show us some of your magic,” she said. “You want us to believe we can trust you, you tell us to take you on good faith. Show us something.”

“Why isn’t it enough that I can vouch for him?” Gabriel asked angrily.

Sam laid a gentle hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Gabriel, you’re not a magic user,” he said quietly.

“And I’m not offended,” Michael said. “It’s not the first time I’ve needed to prove myself.”

He placed his hands together, the position like a prayer, then slowly drew them apart. Dean felt the pull of the energy in his hands before he saw it. There, swirling in the space between Michael’s cupped hands, was a tiny black hole. It was minuscule, but the power Michael had to create such a thing was impressive. Even more impressive, Michael then closed his hand and snuffed out they tiny vortex he had created.

“What kind of witch are you?” Charlie gasped.

Michael smiled again, “I am a lot older than I look. I draw from creation and destruction, the building blocks of all life.”

“And you choose to be a policeman?” Charlie asked.

“I’ve been a lot of things, but I believe in order and I believe in a system.”

“How did you even meet this guy?” Dean asked Gabriel.

“Oh, I met him at the station when I was trying to visit a client,” Gabriel said. “We got chatting and he said to call him if I needed help.”

“I figured Gabriel was the kind of person who might need my help often,” Michael said.

“Is that a joke?” Dean asked. “Because if it is, I think I might be warming up to you.”

“I have been known to make the occasional joke,” Michael said. His expression became somber again. “Believe me, Dean. I have no interest in getting you or Charlie into trouble. I want to help you find these people who went missing and solve this murder. My loyalties are to those victims and I will do everything within my power to help you.”

Dean swallowed. He could understand now why Gabriel had trusted this man. It was difficult not to when he spoke with such conviction.

“Will you tell me what happened?” Michael asked.

Dean took a deep breath.

“Okay, but it’s the edited version,” he said. “I’m trusting my lawyers to stop me if I say anything incriminating.”

Michael nodded. “That’s fair.”

“I was trying to help find a lead to clear Gabe and Sam’s new client, and I found some evidence,” Dean said, glancing over his shoulder at Sam who nodded encouragingly for him to continue. “It belonged to the murdered doctor, it was patient files and all the files belonged to magic users. And Charlie realized that a good half of the files were missing people. And we thought the doctor had been selling those files, passing them on to whoever murdered him.”

Dean’s version was carefully edited. It omitted that he’d heard the two men who’d admitted to the doctor's murder, omitted the fact that he’d been in the office at all. He avoided the part of the story that included him and Castiel being shot at, and he didn’t tell Michael that those files had been encrypted before Charlie got her hands on them.

“And I got angry when I realized he was targeting magic users so I went back to...to where I found the evidence and Cas came with me, but we had a fight so he stayed in the car and he turned into a cat,” Dean continued, aware of how preposterous that sounded but Michael only nodded as if it was the most natural thing in the world for Castiel to have done.

Dean relaxed a little at that. It was easier to talk to Michael, who understood these things, that it would have been trying to explain it to a non-magical officer who might never have come across a familiar in his life.

“I was gone for two minutes, but I swear they must have had the place staked out. They broke into my car and took Cas.”

Michael nodded.

“I tried to chase them down, but I wasn’t fast enough and I was so angry. The magic just came out of me, a big fireball and I sent it at the car, but it didn’t even contact.”

“It fell short?” Michael asked. “Or do you mean it wasn’t as potent as you thought?”

Dean frowned, getting agitated.

“No, you weren’t there. You didn’t see what happened. You didn’t see...There is a magic user behind this. I thought we were dealing with an outsider, someone attacking us, but I saw...the fireball did nothing. Whoever is doing this, whoever killed that doctor and took Cas and those other people, they’re one of us. That’s how they’re doing this. They’re powerful and they’re using that power against us.”

Michael looked at him sharply. “That would be very serious. Someone from within the community targeting our own…”

He trailed off, letting the words hang in the air.

Dean didn’t need him to complete what he was saying. They were used to attacks from the outside, but if someone within their community was targeting them, someone who knew their secrets, their strengths and weaknesses, what to use against them, then the prospect was somehow more chilling.

“And I think I might know who that guy is,” said Charle.  “I checked the license plate of the car Dean saw, and it’s registered to a man called Crowley. No first name.”

“I don’t want to know how you discovered this information, do I?” Michael asked.

Charlie shook her head guilty. “Might be best to develop selective amnesia regarding anything I’ve done, actually.”

“Have you got an address?” Dean asked.

“I’m not sure you should go, Dean,” Sam said nervously. “You said you were burned out, you’re feeling sick. It’s not safe.”

“Sam, you don’t get it. This is the only lead I have and this is about Cas. I have to go,” Dean said.

“And I’ll be there with him,” Michael said. “If anything goes wrong, I’ve got Dean’s back.”

“But don’t you need a warrant or reasonable cause or something?” Dean asked.

He could work outside the law, but Michael couldn’t. They needed Michael’s clout as a police officer. If he did anything wrong, any case he tried to bring could be thrown out on a technicality.

“I’ll be outside, waiting,” Michael assured him. “I know this needs to be done right, Dean.”

“So you’re going to leave Dean on his own?” Sam demanded. “No, I think I should be there too.”

“Sam, come on. You don’t even use your magic. How are you going to help?”

“I’m over six feet tall and I practise kick boxing at the gym,” Sam said confidently.

“That really won’t help if this man is a magic user as powerful as Dean suggests he is,” Michael said.

“Then I’ll go,” Charlie said, standing up. “I might not be the most powerful witch in the world, but I’m pretty confident I can protect us if something comes up.”

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I hate sitting here, waiting for you to call, thinking the worst,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said softly. “It’s just how it has to be, Sam.”

Sam had made his choice when he decided not to use his magic. It meant he had to stay here with Gabriel. If they were dealing with a powerful magic user, dragging Sam and Gabriel into it could only get them hurt.

For now, they had to sit this one out.

**

The offices of Crowley Enterprises were not at all like the shabby, small offices Dean was used to. Housed in a towering black building that dominated the skyline, everything inside; desks and chairs, even the phone, was new, expensive and black.  Dean wondered just what line of work Mr. Crowley was in.

Charlie had done a little financial digging on their way over to the office, but all she’d been able to find indicated that Crowley Enterprises was a shell company. They didn’t seem to hold any contracts, manufacture anything or produce anything, but there was certainly money in the bank account. If nothing else, Michael had said, they might be able to investigate on financial irregularities.

That wasn’t enough for Dean. Dodgy finances might take months, even years to investigate, and Dean couldn’t stand to wait around. But that is just what he was doing now,  sitting in one of the expensive but uncomfortable black seats next to Charlie, in Crowley’s Office, waiting for the man to arrive.

Dean had imagined Crowley as someone dark and twisted, obviously intimidating, so when the man finally did walk through the door, he came as a disappointment. He looked like any corporate snake, the sort of greasy sell-out Dean would expect to find working on Wall Street, frittering away someone else’s savings, rather than a man Dean would have pegged as a murderer and kidnapper.

But then Crowley opened his mouth.

“I’m sorry to have kept you. I had business to deal with,” he said.

For an instant, Dean was right back in the closet at the doctor’s office, listening to the conversation that was being carried on just outside the door.Dean would have recognised his voice anywhere, and now that Crowley was standing in front of him, Dean knew without a doubt that this was one of the men he had heard discussing the doctor’s murder. This was one of the men who had taken Cas.

“Understandable,” Charlie said, rising from her chair, ready to take the lead on the gentle line of questioning they’d discussed in the car, friendly and unthreatening, fishing for information rather than demanding it, but Dean was already seeing red.

He charged out of his chair and grabbed Crowley by the lapels of his suit, slamming him up against the wall.

“Where is Castiel?” he snarled. “Where have you taken him?”

“Dean!” Charlie cried out.

“Have you lost your mind?” Crowley asked, his eyes wide with shock, but Dean noticed that was all; no confusion. “I have no idea who this Castiel is and if you do not take your hands off me, I will have to call security.”

Dean might have believed him if he’d seemed scared. Crowley could certainly say all the right words, but he was too confident, too sure of himself. Even being that close to him made Dean feel wrong.

It wasn’t the same as the sickness he felt being apart from Castiel. Something about Crowley was rotten and this close to him, Dean could feel it. His energy was corrupted. Dean didn’t doubt his magic was powerful, but up this close, it felt to Dean as if he was holding a decaying corpse, not a living, flesh and blood witch.

Dean knew the blackest of dark magic came from death and that the power it granted came with a terrible price - eternal damnation.

Looking into Crowley’s eyes now, Dean saw a man who had sold his soul to gain his power. Not a man who could be intimidated, but a man who was too far gone to understand reason or emotions any more.

“Where is Castiel? What are you planning to do with him?” Dean hissed, shaking the man in his grasp, but still Crowley’s expression never faltered.

Dean would never be able to shake this man’s composure, but, Dean had already seen that Crowley liked to clear up loose ends; anything that could be tied back to him. Dean thought of a gamble he could take, not for himself but for Castiel.

Crowley  pushed Dean away. “I told you what I would do if you continued to threaten me,” he said. “Now I am going to call security and they will escort you off my property. If you try to come near me again, my lawyers will have you for breakfast.”

He stalked past Dean, grabbing the phone on his desk, while Charlie looked at Dean in alarm. Getting thrown out hadn’t been part of their original plan, but Dean couldn’t tell her that now he had a new plan.

“Security?” Crowley barked into the phone. “Yes, I need you here now.”

He slammed the phone back down and stared at Dean triumphantly. There was the confidence that Dean was hoping to exploit to his own advantage. Crowley was expecting a distressed, distraught witch and that was what he got.

“No, you can’t throw me out! You have to tell me where Cas is!” Dean howled out the words, clenching his hands into fist. It almost felt good to let himself go like this, to give into the pain that had been a constant since Castiel’s abduction. There might have been a method in Dean’s madness, but that didn’t make the feelings behind it any less real.

The door flew open. Two bulky, large men stepped in. They were dressed in black too, Dean noted, no doubt these were the security Crowley had called for.

“Throw this man out,” Crowley said, gesturing at Dean. “Him and his friend. He assaulted me. Neither of them are to be allowed back into this building.”

One of the men grabbed hold of Dean, while the other grabbed Charlie’s arm.

“Do you want us to call the police?” the guard holding Dean asked.

Crowley straightened his tie and smoothed down the lapels of his jacket which had been left slightly crumpled by Dean’s grip.

“No, that’s not necessary. Just ensure they are not in the building when I leave.”

The guard nodded. He dragged Dean from the room and Dean provided the performance of his life, kicking and swearing as he was dragged away.

**

Dean hit the pavement with a groan. “And stay out!” the security guard said, dusting off his hands as he stood in the doorway, looking down at Dean.

Charlie walked out of the building, still staring at Dean in horror as if she couldn’t believe his behaviour. She knelt down at his side, sliding her arm around him as she helped him to his feet.

“What were you doing?” she hissed.

“I’ll explain later,” Dean whispered back, leaning into her.

They made their way slowly along the road. It wasn’t until they were around the corner, out of eyesight, that he straightened up and untangled himself from Charlie.

“Right,” Charlie said. “Explain yourself.”

“I know we planned a softly, softly approach, but Charlie I felt his magic. He’s aligned with a demon. That’s where he’s getting his power from. He wouldn’t have given anything away.”

Charlie inhaled sharply. “Well, he didn’t give anything away as it was.”

“Really? Because now  I’m sure that he’s one of the guys I heard in the doctor’s office and that he knows where Cas is. And I’m pretty sure if we wait, he’ll lead us to where Cas is. I think I rattled him enough that he’ll want to check back in with his partner.”

Charlie bit her lip. “And what if he decides that Cas is a loose end he doesn’t want to keep around?” she asked.

“We’re going to follow him. We need to get there before he makes any decisions like that,” Dean said.

They headed towards where Michael was parked, jogging across the street.

“You’re back sooner than I expected,” Michael said.

“Dean got us thrown out,” Charlie said, sliding into the backseat and grabbing for her seatbelt.

“It’s a new plan,” Dean said. “We’re going to follow Crowley. I’ve got a feeling he’ll lead us to Castiel.”

Michael nodded in understanding. “Just tell me when you see him and I’ll do the rest,” he said.

**

It wasn’t long before Crowley hurried straight for an expensive luxury car parked just a little in front of Michael’s. Dean sunk low in the front seat in case Crowley noticed him, but a  few seconds later, Crowley pulled out into the street and a few seconds after that Michael followed.

The drive seemed to take forever. Dean was aware they were heading towards the docks, but every time he thought Crowley was going to stop, they kept going. Michael kept a careful distance from the car in front, but Dean was still nervous that the reason Crowley hadn’t stopped was because he was aware of the car following him.

Then, just when Dean was convinced Crowley was leading them on a wild goose chase, Crowley took a turn that led to one of the warehouses that populated the waterfront. Crowley disappeared inside the warehouse just as Michael drove past.

They parked a little further along the dock front and Dean jumped out of the car.

He knew Castiel was inside the warehouse. For the first time since Castiel had been snatched, Dean could breath easily without pain. He wasn’t suffering the sudden, awful spasms every time he thought about Castiel’s loss.

“I’m going in. Cas is in there!” he shouted back at the car.

“Dean, wait!” Charlie called after him, but Dean wasn’t listening.

He needed his familiar.

**

Castiel lay in the bottom of his cage, tail swishing from side to side.

His clothes had been taken from him and he’d been forced into something that resembled a pervert’s idea of a toga. He had been forbidden from talking to the other caged creatures. When he’d tried, the man watching over them had banged on his cage and threatened to leave bruises where it didn’t show if Castiel didn’t shut up. So Castiel had settled down, anger throbbing through him along with the pain of his separation with Dean, and he’d listened. He’d listened to the conversations going on between his captors and he’d learned.

The creatures they’d brought here were divided into two groups; those like Castiel who they planned to sell on to the highest bidder, and fighters and their bait.

As far as Castiel understood, fighting was the main part of the business. The man called Azazel ran the illegal fighting ring and he chose who he paired in battle. He was cruel, callous. He liked to see pain. Castiel had heard some of his fight pairings and he seemed to favor those battles that would end in bloodshed. The likely death of one or more of his fighters didn’t bother him. He pitted werewolves against vampires, witches against shapeshifters, anything for a bloody and prolonged battle that would bring him the highest bids.

The doctor who had been murdered had provided Azazel with the names and full medical histories of magic users Azazel had then abducted for his fighting ring.

Crowley, the man who had forced his partial transformation handled the money and ran the other side of the business. He was the one who arranged the sales of the  handful of creatures like Castiel, those that were kept away from the fighting and used for profit.

Castiel had learned and hoped, quietly, against the negative voices in his head, that Dean might come for him. If Dean did come, then he would need to know everything about the men he was dealing with and the operation they ran. Castiel could at least be useful to him in that way.

The door banged open. Castiel raised his head slightly, surprised to see Crowley. He wasn’t the only one.

“What are you doing here?” Azazel asked.

“I told you not to grab that familiar. I said he was useless.” Crowley was shouting, pointing angrily at Castiel in his cage. “Now his witch has been in my office, demanding to know where he is. How did he even track me down?”

Castiel’s ears perked up. Dean was looking for him, searching for him.

“Why are you so worried?” Azazel asked. “We just shoot the witch. It isn’t like he’ll survive that.”

Castiel hissed, his ears flattening down.

“You missed last time,” Crowley said angrily.

Azazel shrugged. “I liked scaring him. And he could have been useful. But if he isn’t, I’ll shoot him.”

“Good,” Crowley said. “Good.”

“Do you want me to shoot him too?” Azazel asked, nodding towards Castiel’s cage. “Or can I put him in the ring?”

“No,” Crowley snapped. “I already told you, we’re going to sell him. I’ll find a buyer for him. We’ll take some pictures, get rid of him quickly and with his witch dead, there won’t be anyone to poke around anymore.”

Castiel hissed again, his tail thrashing from side to side.Out of this cage, even if he was powerless, he would have launched himself at the man, scratched and clawed and bit to keep him from hurting Dean.

Azazel banged on the bars of his cage.

“Shut up,” he said. “You should be grateful. If I had my way, you’d be dead by the end of the day.”

Castiel bared his teeth. There was only so much he could do, trapped inside a cage, but that didn’t mean he was going to give up. If he could get out, he would do anything he could to stop them.

“Don’t antagonise him,” Crowley said, stepping close to the cage. “Drug him if you have to. We want to get a high price for him and he’ll sell better if he’s docile.”

“Are you sure? I like spirit,” Azazel said.

“You like to break them. The people who’ll buy him want a pet. He’ll sell better if he isn’t growling,” Crowley said.

Castiel backed away from the cage bars, curling in on himself. He didn’t want to be drugged. He didn’t want to become pliant and docile so he could be more appealing to the highest bidder. The only person he wanted to appeal to was Dean.

And he needed to stay alert if wanted to get out. He had to find a way to escape. Even if Dean regretted their bond, Castiel couldn’t let him get hurt. Dean had been looking for him, he’d been to Crowley’s office demanding to know where Castiel was. He hadn’t abandoned Castiel, and his determination to find him  could get Dean killed. Castiel couldn’t let that happen. He’d escape. He’d find a way. He had to.

***

Dean wasn’t foolish enough to just barge straight into the building. He wanted to. He wanted to swoop in there and rescue Cas, but he would be no good to Castiel if he got himself killed or captured.

He wasn’t even sure if his magic would ever work again. He might get Castiel back and find he was barren. Knowing that he couldn’t trust his magic made Dean all the more careful. He was going to have to rely on just his wits.

His wits and Charlie who had barreled out of the car after him.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“I don’t know,” Dean hissed back, looking up at the warehouse. “But Castiel is in there. I know he is. I can feel him, Charlie.”

“Someone is going to see you,” Charlie said. “What are you going to do then?”

Dean glanced up and down the waterfront. Then he looked back at the warehouse, at the high windows that were blacked out and shut tight despite how sweltering it had to be inside.

An idea began forming in his mind.

“I’ll deal with that when it happens,” he said. “Think there’s enough power around here for you to channel it?”

Charlie stared at him “What the hell do you want me to do?”

“Cut the power. Cause a blackout.”

“Dean? You can’t seriously be planning to…”

“Charlie, please. Give me some cover,” Dean said, pointing upwards. “I thought those windows were tinted, okay, but now I think they’re painted black. Whatever is going on inside that warehouse, Crowley doesn’t want anyone looking in. That means they’re relying on artificial lighting and you can screw with that.”

Charlie still looked uncertain, but she pressed her hand to the warehouse wall and  closed her eyes, breathing deeply, a soft yellow light pulsing at her fingertips. When she opened her eyes they glowed yellow and bright. Her hair flew out around her head. The air around her vibrated. She was alive with electricity, wired into the building and its system.

 

“I don’t know how long I can give you,” she said, her voice crackling with static. “But I’ll do what I can. Should be able to disable any alarms too.”

“Thank you,” Dean said.

“Yeah, just don’t get yourself killed,” Charlie said, smiling at him, otherworldly and affectionate all at once. “I’m not ready to find a new partner.”

**

Somewhere high above Castiel’s head, the light bulbs shattered, someone screamed, and the whole warehouse was plunged into darkness.

“What the hell is going on here?” Crowley roared.

“Powers off?” ventured a voice in the darkness.

“Do you think I can’t see that the power’s off?” Crowley howled in anger. “Do you think I’m that bloody stupid? Why is the power off?”

“I don’t think it’s a powercut,” Azazel said. Something metallic clicked in the darkness and Castiel thought it was the sound of a gun being cocked. “I think we have someone messing with our lights.”

“That witch!” Crowley hissed. “Why are you still here?” he barked. “Get out there and find him! Shoot him. Dump his body in the water, and get the power back on.”

Castiel threw himself towards the door of his cage, hoping this was the miracle he’d been waiting for.He heaved with all his might against his cage door, fingers scrabbling at the lock, hoping somehow to force it open.The darkness gave him the cover he’d needed and from the sounds of it, he wasn’t the only one taking a chance. He could hear the sound of grunts and groans, the scrape of claws against metal, over the sounds of Azazel and his lackeys running to investigate the outage.

“Stop it!” Crowley shouted from somewhere in the darkness. “Stop it or you’ll regret it.”

Castiel knew that wasn’t an idle threat, but somehow in the pitch blackness it lacked the power that it would have had in the light. He kept  trying to find a way to work the lock open, and he heard the screeching of metal being bent and twisted as stronger creatures succeeded in escaping their cages.

A hand covered his suddenly and Castiel gasped.

“Castiel,” Dean’s voice, low and breathless.

“Dean?” Castiel blinked, focusing in the blackness on the vague shape on the other side of his cage. If he wasn’t trapped in this half form, he would have been able to see Dean. He wouldn’t be fumbling about as blind as a human.

“Cas, I thought I’d lost you,” Dean whispered. “And the last thing I did was fight with you. I’m sorry, Cas.”

Castiel reached through the bars, clutching at Dean. He wished he could hug him, could show him just how happy he was that Dean was there, but the cage in the way stopped him short.

“You’re here. That’s all I care about,” he said firmly.

“Yeah? I thought I was dying, being away from you. You never warned me about that,” Dean said.

“I felt it too,” Castiel said.

Dean reached out his hand, reaching through the bars. He cupped Castiel’s face gently in his hands. Castiel leaned into the touch, nuzzling against Dean’s hand. Dean’s presence made things better. He had needed this connection more than he’d known. He felt safer already, even though his situation hadn’t changed - he was still trapped, still locked up.

 

“Can you transform?” Dean asked.

“No,” Castiel said quietly. “Crowley's a powerful witch. He’s...Dean, when you see me, I won’t look the same. I’m stuck. I’m not a cat, but I’m not completely human.”

“Fuck,” Dean swore. “Okay, move back, I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Are you going to use a spell? Dean, I can help you.”

“I..uh…No, I’m going to use lock picks,” Dean said.

It didn’t make sense for him to use a lock pick when Castiel was right there, ready and willing to help him. “Magic would be faster,” he said.

There was a scraping sound, metal against metal, as Dean tried to find the keyhole.

“Cas, when they grabbed you, do you remember anything?” he asked.

“No, not really,” Castiel said.

“I tried, Cas, I really did. I ran after the car they had you in, and when I realized I couldn’t catch you, I tried to cast a spell,” Dean said, his voice strained. “I cast a fireball. It didn’t even do a damn thing. They only thing it did was burn me out. I don’t think I have any magic left.”

“Dean…” Castiel said.

There was a soft click. The door to Castiel cage swung open.

“We need to get you out of here,” Dean said. “I’m not sure how much more time Charlie can give us.”

The moment those words left his lips, the lights flickered, coming back to life. Sharp, too bright light flooded the room and Castiel could see Dean.

So could Crowley.

“You!” Crowley roared, charging at Dean.

Castiel didn’t have time to think. He threw himself in front of Dean, ready to take whatever spell Crowley planned to cast. He might survive it, weakened as he was, now Dean was here. Dean, if he truly had burned through his magic, would not.

“Cas!” Dean shouted, grabbing hold of him, trying to pull Castiel behind him, away from the line of fire.

Castiel felt the change in the atmosphere, the sensation of the air thinning as Crowley sucked the energy from the air to power his magic. There should have been pain, too, a searing energy, but there was nothing.  

Crowley looked as stunned as Castiel felt. “What did you do?” he hissed.

He wasn’t talking to Castiel. He was looking past him at Dean.

Castiel turned his head,  expecting Dean to be as confused as he was, but Dean looked calm and collected.

In one moment, everything had slotted into place for Dean. He had felt magic thrumming through him, stronger than he'd ever felt it before, burning in it's intensity. He had cast the spell by instinct, but unlike the last time when he had let his instincts guide him, this time his spell was good.

Now Dean  knew why his father’s spell had failed, why his own fireball had nearly burned him out too. That magic had fed on their anger. There was only one possible end for magic like that. Grief and pain might be powerful, but they were destructive.What Dean felt now, what he was using, was love. The second they'd been threatened he had reached for Castiel and Castiel had reached for him. They had tried to protect each other. Dean's magic had responded to Castiel’s love, and Dean was powerful, more powerful than he had ever imagined he could be.

“You cast some sort of protection charm,” Crowley snarled. “How? You didn’t have any power when I saw you in my office.”

“Yes. I didn’t have any power before,” Dean agreed. “But you were going to hurt Castiel, and it  came naturally when you threatened him.” He squeezed Castiel’s shoulder softly. “Your magic can’t fight ours. Your magic is based on something evil, but ours is based on our bond. On our love.”

Crowley’s eyes bulged, his mouth twisting. He looked frightened. Suddenly, he raised his hands again, raining down spell after spell on them.

Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel, and Castiel saw their shield, glittering and beautiful, wrap around them.

That was what came from Dean’s magic. Not destruction, not evil, but protection. Castiel had always known that Dean was a good man and when he gave Dean his power, magnified what Dean already had,it  had created another, powerful way for Dean to protect those he loved.

The air around them vibrated with the force of the magic that was being thrown their way. These spells were designed to kill, but they made no dent in the armor Dean had constructed. The end came suddenly, in a bright ball of fire.

Crowley's spell died on his lips as the fire spread from his fingertips and coiled back on him, alive like a serpent, winding its way up his arms. Crowley screamed, and it took only a matter of seconds for the magic fire to consume him, leaving nothing but ash behind.

Dean clutched Castiel a little tighter as he stared at the spot where Crowley had stood, fingers digging into Castiel, as if he was afraid to let him go.

“I always wondered.” he said quietly.

“Dean?” Castiel asked.

Dean shook his head. He pulled Castiel around kissed him desperately, filling the kisses, with everything Dean wasn’t saying. Castiel clung to him, returning the kisses, pouring every moment of pain from their separation into it, every dark thought that had come to him in the cage vanishing.

“I love you,” Castiel whispered, pulling back just enough so he could look at Dean.

“Yeah?” Dean let out a shaky breath. “I love you too.” He looked Castiel up and down. “What did they do to you?”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed, I’m sure,” Castiel said, reaching up to touch one of his soft furred ears.

Dean reached up, stroking his fingers over the soft fur and Castiel found himself fighting to urge to purr. This was hardly the time or the place, but Dean was touching him and all he wanted to do was let Dean pet him.

“Maybe I can take a little time before I fix them,” he murmured, gazing at Dean through half-closed eyes.

“Dean!”

The voice from the other side of the warehouse was not one Castiel recognised, and in an instant he was on the alert again, poised in front of Dean, ready to fight off the incoming threat.

“Cas, hey,” Dean said. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” As a man in uniform came in sight. “This is Michael. He’s on our side.”

Castiel relaxed slightly.

“Is Charlie alright?” Dean asked. “I didn’t see where Azazel went.”

“He’s been arrested. You have a very brave friend there, Dean, and a very resourceful one. She electrocuted him and his men when they tried to attack her.”

Dean’s face fell. “They attacked her?”

“Yeah, but I’m fine, Winchester. You think this is the first time I’ve faced down a couple of goons with guns?” Charlie said as she stepped into the warehouse, looking as if she’d just been electrocuted herself. Her clothes were singed, her hair stood on end, but she was grinning.  

“You should have seen me. Michael couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. I thought he was going to arrest me for excessive force.”

“I think your use of force was perfectly within reasonable limits,” Michael murmured.He looked around at the cages, either empty or containing battered, broken specimens who’d been too weak or too frightened to free themselves. The pitiful creatures stared back at him, waiting to see what he’d do.

Waiting, Castiel thought, to see if they’d been freed by one evil, only to fall into the hands of another.

“What was this place?” Michael asked. “What were they doing?”

“Selling magic users, making them fight, betting on them. I heard them talking about it,” Castiel said. “The fights made the most money, but they sold creatures like me as a side business.”

Dean reached for his hand and Castiel gratefully slipped his fingers into Dean’s, locking them together. Knowing that there were other creatures who had been stripped of their rights and sold as pets to be kept by some twisted sickos made Castiel’s blood boil.

“Crowley kept records, I’m sure of it,” he said. “We need to track everyone who was sold down, we need to free them.”

Michael nodded. “Where is Crowley?” he asked.

Dean gestured towards the pile of ash with his foot.

“His last spell rebounded on him. He burned himself up,” he said.

The four of them stared at the little pile, the only earthly remains of a man who’d thought nothing of putting his greed and profit above the lives of others. It consoled Castiel a little to think that even now the Demon who Crowley had sold his soul to would be making good on that deal.

“I’m going to radio to the station for backup and ambulances. We need to get these people to a hospital and we’re going to have a lot of statements to take,” Michael said. He looked from Charlie to Dean and Castiel. “You three should get out of here.”

“How will you explain all this?” Dean asked.

Michael smiled. “That’s my problem. I think you need to get your familiar home.”

**

This time, Dean remembered to phone Sam.

Castiel listened to the conversation while he curled up on the couch in Dean’s apartment. He watched Dean gesture, and sigh, and roll his eyes, and then the phone was passed over to him and he had to relate everything to Sam again, with interjections from Gabriel in the background.

Charlie had already wished them goodbye. She’d gone home to try and calm down the static electricity that was still running through her body and to get a head start tracking down those magic users who’d been sold on from the fighting ring.

There were so many people still to find and the true horror of that place wouldn’t really be known until they knew how many had died there. What had started as a simple case for Dean had spiraled into the dark underbelly of their city. It would take Michael and the police department months to untangle all of it, even with Charlie’s help.

“Let’s go to bed,” Dean said when he’d finally convinced Sam to hang up the phone. He offered his hand to Castiel.

In Dean’s bed they curled around each other, legs intertwined, bodies locked together.

“I told you your magic was good,” Castiel said. “That you were good.”

“I still don’t know if I’m sure that the magic is good,” Dean said. “But I know that what we have is good and I know you’re good. That’s enough for me.”

“You’re the most amazing witch I’ve ever known,” Castiel said and it was true.There had never been anyone else like Dean. Castiel already knew that finding the victims of the fighting ring would be Dean’s priority. And Castiel knew he would follow Dean to the ends of the earth to help save those people.

But right now, for this moment, the only place he wanted to be was here, in Dean’s arms, safe and happy together. Tomorrow they could right the wrongs of the world. Tonight, they needed the warmth of this bed and each other, the steady promise that there would be a new day tomorrow and another after that.

Castiel smiled at Dean, his eyes heavy lidded. Dean smiled back at him and reached out to fondle the soft ears on top of Castiel’s head.

This time, Castiel didn’t try to stop his purr.

 ****  



End file.
